


Schatten

by cincoflex



Category: Only Lovers Left Alive (2013)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Folklore, Music, Threesomes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-05 21:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 40,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5391572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cincoflex/pseuds/cincoflex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, someone new becomes Adam's source of good stuff, but at a price, much to Eve's delight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Of course Eve is delighted. “Darling, she sounds scrumptious! So she’s _blackmailing_ you?”

“It’s not funny,” Adam replies, discomfited by the amount of glee in his wife’s voice. “I’m not in the mood to try and find an alternate source and my pet zombie really isn’t up to acquiring one.”

“Certainly not,” Eve knows enough about Ian to not to smirk, but her voice is light. Indulgent. “So you’re considering her offer, yes?”

“ _No_.” Adam works hard at sounding firm but he knows it’s coming across as a sulk, particularly when Eve merely looks at him in that loving way of hers.

“Well it’s up to you of course, but I’d suggest you re-consider. It’s been a long time since you Created, and we both know what a boost the process gives your music.”

He can’t deny that. Eve is as always, perceptive. She cocks her head, waiting, and Adam gives a harsh sigh. “You think this will be good for me,” he accuses.

This time Eve nods. “Yes,” comes her simple reply. “If she’s perceptive enough not only to figure you out, but also to set terms, then she’s definitely worthy. And try as you may to deny it, some companionship will do you good, my love. I may even come out to visit once the deed is done, you know.”

This cheers him, and Adam gazes longingly at the screen. “Don’t tease.”

“Not teasing,” Eve promises. “And give it another think-through. For me.”

She ends the call and lies back, feeling a sense of lightness in her chest. Goodness, it’s been _years_ since anyone tried to negotiate, and the cocky challenge of that already endears this unknown woman to her.

If Adam has any sense at all, he’ll come around, Eve thinks. He needs a good challenge once in a while.

*** *** ***

He does as Eve asks because she so rarely asks for anything. In all their time together Adam knows his beloved is proud to be independent, and holds onto her freedom with quiet pride. She’d told him once of her flesh life, and how she’d been bought and sold six times before leaving behind mortality. How the painful memory of an uncertain future shaped her into what she is now.

Adam admires her serenity, her ethereal grace. It drew him to her ages ago and still enthralls him even over the distance and centuries. Eve faces triumph and disaster with the same calm philosophy. He’s tried to emulate it, but can’t pull it off, not really. Triumphs make him suspicious, and disasters only draw a weary resignation from him. 

She’s right about the companionship as well. Alone, Adam _knows_ he’s a jaded figure, cynical and often unable to change his mood. Eve lightens him, reminds him that in the long view, the good still manages to triumph most of the time. Eventually. “We get to see legacies my darling. The vindications and victories.”

He misses her terribly. 

But the deed necessary to draw his love from her Tangier nest . . . Adam isn’t sure the payoff is worth it because Doctor Schatten is, well, nearly everything Eve isn’t.

She’s not tall, not slender, not blonde, not aristocratic and not patient by any means. He’d have never met her if Doctor Watson hadn’t ‘retired’ unexpectedly. Even now, the memory of slipping into the hematology lab and finding a stranger at the microscope irritated him. 

A stranger who had spoken over her shoulder without even looking up from the lens. “Doctor Watson told me to expect you. Your O negative is right here.” A low voice, smooth and certain.

Adam remembers the moment of panic, the debate of an instant whether to flee or fight. And then the woman rising and moving to the cabinet for the canisters, her manner unnervingly nonchalant.

“Who are you?”

“I’m the person who’s set up a hematology account for you. Also . . .” She had turned and held out a stethoscope to him.

A newer one.

But the Need was still there, and he didn’t have a backup plan, damn it.

“Where is Doctor Watson?”

“Doctor Watson has prudently left our facility to practice in Florida, where there are more casinos and fewer IRS agents interested in under the table income,” the woman in the lab coat had told him. 

Her hair had been a shade out of a Titian painting and excessively curly, Adam recalls. Almost obscenely sensual against the pale blue of her lab coat. Her name tag read _Schatten._ She also had café au lait skin, freckles, the strong, sturdy frame of a farm girl and flecked hazel eyes that watched him closely.

Adam remembers feeling a rise of something within him, something edged with irritation and indefinable. “And you’re . . . taking over his end of the arrangement.”

She had arched an eyebrow at that.

She’d loaded the bag, tucking the stethoscope in it and he had handed her the bills; she stopped him, trying to hand back two thirds of it. “Too damned much. A pint runs about one twenty; less if it’s over a week old. Plasma’s only forty if you prefer that.”

“Keep it,” Adam remembers trying to back away with dignity, but she’d reached over and tucked the money into the breast pocket of his lab coat.

“Nope. See you around . . . Doctor Varney.”

Unsettling. He’d driven home not sure if he was fuming or afraid. Not of her, but the shift in arrangements. Wright was a known quantity; a zombie with a specific weakness for lucre. This one . . . 

But he doesn’t want to go back to predation. It’s messy and dangerous and . . . disorderly. Adam doesn’t like unpredictability. He prefers the civility of pouring the good stuff rather than killing for it. Eve’s influence again, and one of the aspects of modern life that he’s grown to appreciate. 

Easier to pour and sip than pounce and rip.

He frets over it for a week, debating on whether he can find some alternative, but by the time Adam’s down to his last pint, he knows he’s going back.

That’s the start of it.

She’s not curious—or if she is, she’s hiding it well. Adam braces himself each time for questions, for a quick escape if necessary, but for the first two months the transactions are unbelievably smooth. He even takes the receipt Doctor Schatten hands him along with the flasks, amused that the billing is for an obscure bio-research facility in Royal Oak. 

After the first three times, Adam stops trying to overpay her; she keeps handing back money and shaking her head. It’s odd to pay . . . well, fair market value for something so precious to him. And the quality is better than the stuff he’d gotten from Watson, who more often than not sold him batches that were within days of spoiling. Schatten’s flasks hold prime stuff that’s a pleasure to drink.

The cynical part of him wonders why she’s doing this. It’s clear she knows what he is, but she doesn’t seem to be particularly afraid of him. Initially Adam considered she might be one of those zombies in love with the concept, and hoping to be bitten. There had been plenty of those through the centuries, and early on he’d been obliging, if only for the amusing convenience.

But she’s never flirted or made overt conversation, even though she’s looked him over now and again. He’s returned the favor because despite being into his sixth century Adam still retains more than his share of testosterone. 

It amuses Eve, this drive of his. They can go years, decades at a time without making love, but when they reunite, the passion flares so hotly between them that they can do little else for weeks at a time. Part of it is their own soul-intimacy, forged over the centuries, and the other part, Adam knows, is his own masculine hunger. Eve has never begrudged him other women, and he’s rarely reached out for them but occasionally the need is there. (Oh how she teases him about Mary Shelley, even now.) Adam suspects there have been other men in Eve’s life as well, but he understands too how easy it is to fall under _her_ enchanting spell. 

They’ve lived long enough to embrace the fluidity of their lives and loves, and that itself is an enduring testament to their marriage.

Still, Adam can’t deny that there’s something about Doctor Schatten that is getting under his skin; something not quite definable. Perhaps it’s her acceptance, her matter-of-fact attitude, which is rare among the enlightened zombies. 

She seems to respect him, too, which is doing things to lift his depression. The musician in him longs for that, even if he does work at creating layers of mystery and privacy around his work and persona. A performer needs an audience: the more immediate, the better. Adam has no idea if Doctor Schatten likes music, but she’s attentive and that’s a start.

And she’s lush. Over the centuries Adam’s seen the standards of beauty shift from one end of the spectrum to the other. In his flesh life, the idea beauty was rounded and curved, with a soft belly and dimpled knees. That template still lingers in his memory, and overlaid on Doctor Schatten, it’s a good fit. The hair, too, is within that realm with its crimson-bronze dangling curls.

Ohh, she’s especially enticing when menstruating, and Adam makes it a point to stay back from her when she is. Doctor Schatten’s faint copper-rose perfume whets his appetite on those weeks and he makes his evening glass a little fuller after those visits.

So it goes for the next five months, through the changing seasons. They continue to meet each week, and he allows himself to wonder about her. The week she has a black eye bothers him, especially when she shrugs it off. “It’s nothing. Failed purse snatching.”

Adam looks for a wedding ring, photos on the desk, any clues at all about this woman and finds very little, which piques his curiosity even more. From what he remembers about zombies, they love talking about themselves. It’s as if they know how short their lives are, so they’re determined to share theirs with anyone showing a passing interest. Ian is a great example, and Adam already knows far too much about his personal assistant—from his favorite lunch (“Mac and cheese with little bits of burnt bacon, man!”) to his lacrosse triumphs in high school, his opinion about the Detroit music scene and a hundred other boring, pointless bits of information.

Zombies tend to leave their personal information like a trail of rat droppings, in Adam’s dry opinion, and the fact that there aren’t any obvious signs about Doctor Schatten is . . . bothersome.

He wonders what she’s got to hide.


	2. Chapter 2

Then one night she speaks up. “You know we won’t be open next Saturday. Can you come a day early?”

Adam looks at her, feels the heat from her skin. “Why?”

She gives him a slightly disbelieving look. “Um, Christmas?”

Adam mentally sighs. Zombies and their holidays. “Right.”

“Unless you want to come pick it up at my place.”

A beat passes; Adam notices she’s watching him and her expression is fleetingly . . . wistful. 

Such an odd expression. Not fearful, not annoyed or wary—any of which would have him turning the latter offer down and going with the former as per his routine.

But he’s bored and curious; a dangerous combination. Adam suddenly wants to know _something_ about this woman, so he finds himself murmuring, “all right.”

Doctor Schatten pulls a card from her lab coat pocket and hands it to him; her business card, but it has an address handwritten in the back. The corners are a little worn; as if she’s been carrying it around for a while.

“When?” Adam wants to know.

“Midnight’s still good,” she tells him.

*** *** ***  
Apparently Doctor Schatten lives on the north edge of Boston Edison, and Adam is a little wary of the rarefied neighborhood until he goes past Boston Avenue and the streetlights begin to thin out once more. Part of why he enjoys Detroit is that it’s darker than most cities, both on the economic and wattage levels. 

Adam loves the dark. Loved it long before he became a creature of it, back when seeing the stars was as easy as looking up on any given night, no telescope needed.

The old house is at the end of the block, run-down and sheltered by overgrown pine trees. Seeing it, he feels a new prickle of curiosity. Parking a street over, Adam gets out, wraps a scarf around his chin and mouth, slips on his sunglasses and strolls back towards the address, working at looking innocuous as he carries his Gladstone bag. It hasn’t snowed yet, but the chilly breeze gusts around him, tugging at the fringe of the scarf. The scent of wood smoke rides on the wind and skitters over the frosted dead grass.

As he turns to the house, Adam notes something unexpected in the window. Pausing, he stares and counts; three of the eight candles glow softly, the heat of their flames making little halos on the chilly pane as the frost melts.

So . . . that’s one thing he’s learned about Doctor Schatten. 

At the doorway he looks along right side of the door frame, spotting the little metal ornament nailed there. It’s so old the dark metal almost blends into the wood, a clear indication of how long the house has been halakha. Quaint. Unexpected, Adam thinks. Different.

He pushes the doorbell and takes a step back, not sure if Doctor Schatten will come out, or invite him in properly. He’s not cold, but he’s well aware that it could be a trap. Certainly it wouldn’t be the first time, so he stays just out of the range of the porch light.

After half a minute the door opens the width of the chain, and Adam can see a sliver of a familiar figure there. The chain rattles and the door swings open, revealing the rest of her. “You found it,” comes her low voice.

Adam watches her as she grips the doorway and a flood of new interest sweeps through him as she stands framed there, the overhead light putting shadows through her curls and curves. She’s in jeans and a dark green sweater, looking younger.

“Yes,” he replies, adding, “Shalom,” to put the ball back in her court.

Does she know what to do?

“Welcome into my home,” Doctor Schatten intones, and steps back, holding the door open wider. Adam hesitates, weighing all the pros and cons in that moment, the centuries behind him of courtesy, ritual, obligation and social mores that go into accepting or rejecting this offer. 

A literal and metaphorical threshold to be crossed by this invitation.

He steps forward, moving with deliberate slowness, right foot passing over the sill, the rest of him following. Scents reach him: beeswax, bread, furniture polish and the faintest hint of oil. He keeps his gaze on Doctor Schatten, who is studying him with a new intensity of her own.

The lighting is warmer here; Adam wonders what it is about him that catches her attention. Most likely his hair, since he’s always had it covered up during his regular visits. He keeps his sunglasses on. 

She gives a little shrug of her shoulders. “This way,” turning, Doctor Schatten turns, heading deeper into the house, leaving him no choice but to follow her, which he does, cautiously. Hardwood floors, maroon walls with white crown molding, landscape art here and there, nothing special. They pass a dining room and a living room . . . Adam stops, looking in as an instrument there catches his attention.

He stares, practically _hears_ the strings vibrating in his head, harmonies resonating . . . he turns into the room, unable to resist its call. Adam pulls a glove off, letting his fingers touch the satiny olive-wood of the lyre, wishing Eve was there to tell him how old it was. Flipping his sunglasses up, he bends closer to examine the strings.

“Hey—!” Doctor Schatten comes in behind him, her manner slightly peeved now. “ _Please_ be careful with that.”

Adam plucks a chord—a little imperfectly, since he’s long out of practice—but it hangs sweetly in the air, bringing to mind arid desert hills baking under a bright and merciless sun.

He looks up at Doctor Schatten without apology. “Play something.”

For a moment her rebellious expression says it all, but eventually some measure of pride rises in her and she gives a little sigh. She reaches for the instrument, her hands carelessly confident as she cradles it in crook of her left arm. She begins to pluck the strings, humming softly as the music flows, spinning up and around, weaving chords that glow in their simplicity. 

Adam feels a purr rise up within his chest as he hums an octave lower, building a counter melody that supports hers. His fingers long for an instrument—any instrument-- and he flexes them restlessly as the tune soars and dips in the living room like fine smoke, a gauzy cobweb of a tune.

She’s improvising, he realizes; mixing a few bars of familiar chants with new and unexpected notes to create something he can almost follow, but not quite. 

Then she stops. Resting a palm over the strings to silence them, Doctor Schatten stares at him with an expression that cannot decide if it wants to be haughty or exasperated. “Happy?”

“What was that song called?” Adam wants more, but he senses she’s nervous.

“I call it ‘The Nosy Motetz Dam,” she replies flippantly.

He smiles. He can’t help it; it’s been nearly a century and a half since Adam’s heard that particular Yiddish label for what he is, and certainly not here on this continent. He cocks his head, acknowledging the word and the truth of it. “Mazel tov,” he murmurs. “I’m sure it was difficult to figure out.”

She’s holding the kinnor a bit more protectively, but her expression is wry. “Watson had you pegged as some sort of blood play freak. His exact description was, “creepy-ass Goth who pays through the nose, unquote.”

“The medical profession can be _so_ unkind,” Adam offers as he peels off his other glove, but he knows one corner of his mouth is quirking up again. “How long have you played?”

“Ten years,” Doctor Schatten tells him. “How long have you been a vampire?”

“Since the Peasant’s Revolt,” he replies, reaching for the kinnor. 

She reluctantly hands it to him, her grip lingering on it for a second before releasing; Adam finds himself caressing the aged olive wood again, savoring its texture. It’s old but well-used, well cared for.

Cradling it, Adam plucks a melody from a certain rainy summer in Italy, the sound slow and rich through the room. He’s concentrating so hard, lost in it that he doesn’t notice when Doctor Schatten moves closer, and moments later when the song ends, he finds her right on the edge of his personal space.

“Musician. It figures,” she murmurs and reaches for the instrument. He’s loathe to return it but does, his fingertips still full of un-played notes.

“Where did you get it?”

“It was my father’s. I don’t know where _he_ received it. Come on; I’ve got your . . . nourishment.”

Adam watches her prop the kinnor reverently against the cushions of the chair and he follows her out, looking back one last time at the beautiful little jewel.

That’s another thing he’s learned about Doctor Schatten.

Her kitchen is full of bookcases. Adam scans the titles, knowing Eve would be delighted with the mishmash of scholarly tomes and graphic novels, the ancient paperbacks stacked up alongside the cookbooks and atlases and encyclopedias. Some are in Hebrew, most in English, a few in Yiddish. There’s a yahrzeit on the table, unlit.

“Here,” comes her murmur, and from the back of the refrigerator she pulls out the familiar flasks, setting them on the island that separates the business part of the kitchen from the dining area. Adam drifts over and sets his Gladstone next to them, slouching over the top to look at her.

He’s oddly comfortable here. The books remind him of his wife, and the music has soothed some of his trepidation. The flasks reassure him his physical needs are taken care of so now he’s got the opportunity to ask a few questions.

“What is it that you want?” Adam murmurs, giving the woman in the kitchen his best unnerving stare. He’s good at it; it keeps Ian in line and holds off most other zombies. The only one it’s ever failed with is Eve of course, who always starts to smile when he tries to turn it on her.

“For now, company,” she tells him as she meets his gaze. They stare at each other over the island and Adam feels the weight of her scrutiny. He’s not vain, but something about the way she’s looking at him makes him wish he’d at least attempted to brush his hair.

“What’s your name?” Doctor Schatten asks.

“Adam.”

She laughs, and dimples appear on her rounded cheeks as her eyes crinkle up. Nonplussed, he wonders what could possibly be so hilarious about what he’s just said. He stares at her, willing her to compose herself but apparently the harder he stares, the more Doctor Schatten splutters, her hands gripping the edge of the island.

“I utterly fail to see the humor,” he growls.

She takes in a breath and lifts her head, tossing back her curls to meet his gaze once more. 

“Pleased to meet you, Adam . . . I’m Lilith.”


	3. Chapter 3

He doesn’t believe her and it takes her driver’s license, the diploma on the wall and the handful of junk mail to convince Adam that yes indeed, Doctor Schatten is in fact named Lilith. Lilith Shadow, if his German is correct, and if Eve was with them she would be delighted by the karmic coincidence. As it is, he himself is feeling a little thrown by it.

“So you’re named for the female demon who in mythology was the first wife to my namesake back during the Creation,” Adam muses, “although in this case _you’re_ human and I’m . . . not.”

“So it seems,” Lilith nods, still amused. “The _only_ thing that would make all this even weirder . . .”

“Yes,” Adam interrupts dryly, “Yes I _am_ married, and yes her name _is_ Eve.”

Lilith stares at him and then bursts into gales of laughter, bending over in her glee, her burgundy curls shaking into her face, which is flushing. “Good one!”

“It’s not a joke,” Adam tells her, aware of how anomalous these connections are. How tinged with a sense of fate. He’s always been the more mathematically inclined one, but sometimes there’s more than the numbers tell, a place where they fade into a point beyond evidence.

He says none of this to the woman still chuckling and wiping her face, but the sight of her mirth touches something in him too.  
Damned strange, this coincidence.

Lilith finally catches her breath, and gives her head a little shake, as if trying to clear it. “So. You’re married. I didn’t know your . . . people did that.”

Adam feels slightly offended. “My _people_?”

“Yes, you know-- the ah, solar challenged. The liquid-dieters. The longevity gifted.”

The euphemisms threaten to make him smile, but he fights it. He’s smiled too much already and it wouldn’t do to encourage this woman. “The nocturnally enhanced?” He widens his lips to allow the tips of his fangs to show.

“Vampires,” Lilith murmurs, suddenly sobered by the sight. 

“We’re not a people,” Adam tells her. “We’re individuals. There is no tribe or nation or . . .” he waves a hand, “community. It’s not like that.”

“Pity,” she replies, and he hears the sincerity in her voice. “So how do you pass on your culture?”

“There _is_ no culture,” Adam murmurs, and while that’s true on a superficial level, he knows perfectly well that there are traditions, rules and information that do get explained to each new Created, usually by their Kin. 

“So how do you know what to do? I mean, is it all based on what you knew when you were human and you perpetuate the process or what?” He hears the sincerity in her questions, a desire to know; the evidence of an analytical mind gearing up.

Adam isn’t sure he’s ready for this discussion, and wishes Eve was here; she’s always been much better at answers. To stall matters, he shrugs as elegantly as he can. “It’s complicated and not relevant to matters at the moment.”

“Oh but it _is_ ,” Lilith replies, giving him another direct look. “Especially to me.”

He knows then, and although the suspicion has been in his mind since the day he encountered her, Adam feels a slight sense of panic. Mistake. It was all a _huge_ mistake to agree to her terms and now he’s got to find a way to extricate himself. Quickly, carefully Adam begins loading the flasks into the bag. “No. I _know_ what you’re going to ask and the answer is absolutely _not._ ”

“But why not? I have so many questions! How has your body mutated from the standard Homo Sapiens norm? What are your precise dietary needs? How does your digestive system break down the nutrients? Does the type or RH factor matter for your health? What do you excrete? DO you excrete? Can you accept substitutes such as animal blood, do you have a circulation system of your own?” Lilith rattles these off even as she holds her hands up in a placating matter. “I could base an entire _field_ of xeno-hematology on you, figure out how to help you, Adam!”

“I don’t _need_ help,” he snaps, tugging the bag off the counter. “All I need is my weekly supply and to be left _alone,_ Doctor Schatten!”

Neither of them speak for a moment as they glare at each other.

“Okaaay- _fine_ ,” she huffs, looking hurt. “Sorry I said anything. Clearly you’ve got everything under control the way you want it. I just thought . . .” she lets her sentence trail off as Adam clutches the bag to his chest.

“You thought I’d be your guinea pig? Or better yet, that I’d allow myself to be your pet project? Then you made a huge _mis-assumption_ , Doctor. Our relationship is strictly a business arrangement.”

She tightens her lips and nods, head bouncing a little and Adam can feel her anger, her frustration being buttoned away. “All right. Fair enough. Zay gezunt already then. Thanks for stopping by.”

Lilith makes little shooing motions now, and Adam gives her a last stare before slinking out of the kitchen and through the house. As he passes the living room doorway he shoots the kinnor a last regretful glance before leaving, and steps out into the chill. No footfalls echo behind him, and for a moment Adam’s disappointed his hostess hasn’t come to see him out.

He hefts the bag and begins his walk to the car, his anger mingling with an odd sense of . . . confused disappointment. So sure . . . he’d been so _sure_ she would ask him for immortality. That’s what all the zombies wanted—the glamour of living forever, or so they thought. 

Idiots.

But Lilith didn’t, Adam realizes sourly. No, she wanted information. Details. Facts. Her mind had gone straight to the _analysis_ of immortality rather than its potential. He isn’t sure why this is disappointing until he’s home and unloading the flasks. As he pours himself a shot, looking at the scarlet draught, Adam thinks of Lilith’s—Doctor Schatten’s, he rebukes himself—throat. And how sensually divine it would be to press a kiss to that warm skin before lightly drinking from her.

And _that’s_ the reason he’s in a hideous mood, he acknowledges to himself. Because it would have been gratifying to be . . . enticed. Seduced. 

She is infuriatingly attractive in a robust, earthy way and Adam hates to admit that the woman’s vitality attracts him as strongly as it does. 

_And_ she’s a bloody scientist.

He gulps down the glass and closes his eyes, grumbling.

** * *** *** 

Consequently, he has Ian looking for kinnors the next week, a chore that the boy is happy to do. The few Ian finds are modern ones, and Adam grudgingly accepts them. He spends a few hours re-familiarizing himself with the instrument, working out a few new melodies. One is good enough to add a melancholy top note to one of the pieces he’s been fussing with, and it ties the song together nicely, so there’s that.

When he drinks the last of his supply, Adam steels himself for his weekly visit to the lab. He’s not sure what his reception will be, but at this point he hasn’t much choice. It’s been a steady arrangement this last half year, and while he hopes that Doctor Schatten will at least be cordial, Adam has _also_ dealt with his fair share of scorned women in his centuries. 

Perhaps she’ll give him low-grade stuff—he can deal with that if he has to.

The halls are nearly empty as he makes his way through the building, and as he approaches Doctor Schatten’s lab, Adam slows. He pulls the door open, looks in and there she is at the centrifuge, studying a vial in the low light.

He steps inside, waiting for her to acknowledge him. She half-turns, glances lightly at him and waves to the cooler holding the flasks. Adam hesitates, but Lilith has returned to her vial in her hand, giving it a shake.

Ah, the cold shoulder.

Adam is familiar with this tactic and it suits him just fine. He moves to the cooler and begins to stack the flasks, returning the chilly indifference as he does so. Predictable, he thinks, and quickens his task. As he finishes, Adam straightens up just in time to see Lilith sway, and catch herself on the edge of the counter. Her head is low, and more alarmingly, she’s got a mask on, something he hadn’t noticed when he came in.

“Doctor Schatten,” he snaps.

She doesn’t respond. Adam steps over to her and before he’s even within touching distance he feels the heat of her fever radiating off of her. Without thinking about it, he wraps an arm around her shoulders, bracing her up.

Lilith’s glance is glazed, and her voice raspy. “Go! I’ll be fine.”

He stares. “What are you doing here?” Even as he asks, Adam knows.

“You needed . . . your stuff. I called in sick . . . I’m not here, officially,” Lilith mumbles. “Go already. I can go home myself now.”

Zombies, Adam thinks in exasperation. It’s clear she’s in no condition to stand up, let alone drive. He speaks up. “I have a vested interest in your continued good health, so . . . let’s get you home, Doctor.”

It’s worrying that she doesn’t protest much. Adam finds a wheelchair, sets Lilith into it and rolls her through the back hallways of the hospital and out through the side doors. He leaves the chair at the doorway; no point in raising any more suspicions, and helps to lead Lilith to his car. She’s slow but steady, grumbling a little. Adam’s not sure if she’s aware of it; it might be a bit of fever delirium.

He helps her in, sets the bag into her lap and climbs in the driver’s side. They head out into the chill of the night. Lilith lolls in the passenger seat, eyes closed, and Adam shoots sidelong glances at her, wondering how long she’s had the flu. At least a day if not longer. Fortunately it’s nothing to him; his only susceptibility nowadays is to blood-borne diseases and contagions, which is why screening for the good stuff is important. Everything else, not so much. 

Adam remembers plague, pandemics, quarantines, witch-hunts and sacrifices; influenza is minor.

They arrive at her house eventually, and Adam digs through Lilith’s purse for her keys, manages to unlock the front door and usher her inside. The bedrooms are upstairs, and with some coaxing he manages to get her up there, but it takes the last of her energy and Lilith sits on the bed in the master bedroom, shivering and blank-eyed.

“Physician, heal thyself,” Adam mutters, looking through her bathroom cabinet for something to bring her fever down, and finding something that promises to do that. A glass of water and two tablets later, he’s wondering how to get her under the covers

Lilith stares at him, her dry lips twisting into a smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Playing doctor with you,” Adam answers, aware that she’s unlikely to remember this conversation in the morning.

She laughs a little, and lets herself flop back onto the chenille bedspread. “Eve won’t like that,” Lilith chortles, and the sound turns into a dry cough.

“Actually,” Adam manages as he moves to pull her boots and socks off. Lilith’s toenails are a rich wine color, “she suggested the idea. Go to sleep, Lilith.”

She’s already got her eyes closed, and Adam finds a quilt to drape over her. He lays out a second dose of medication on the nightstand along with another glass of water, and slips downstairs, coming back with the kinnor.

Adam sits at the foot of the bed and plays until Lilith is deeply asleep, fingers weaving slow, soft lullabies until the threat of dawn finally makes him leave.


	4. Chapter 4

The next night he debates returning, fretting for a while as he tries to justify an excuse. Everything in his own house irritates him, and finally Adam reasons that since Lilith is foolish enough not to take care of herself, he sets out to make sure she’s at least taken the second dose of analgesic.

He’ll simply check in, he tells himself, and avoids any deeper examination of the excuse. 

Once he’s on her porch, he debates whether to ring the bell or not. He has his Invitation to cross the threshold, so by rights Adam knows he could simply walk in without waiting. Of course Lilith may not realize her hospitality is good until revoked, he knows, but then again, he also knows how high her fever was.

He reaches for the doorknob. It’s locked. Embarrassed now, Adam debates leaving with what little dignity he has left, but instead slouches his way around the house to the back door, which leads into the kitchen. This one is unlocked, and he steps into the brightness, breathing in the scent of chicken soup.

She’s there, stirring a pot on the stove, and spins when she hears the door, her shock enough to make him smirk. “Feeling better?”

“Ah!” Lilith croaks, tugging her robe closed, but not before Adam sees her pink tank top and panties under it. “Dos felt mir noch! _You!_ What are you doing here?”

“Making sure you’re still alive,” Adam tells her as he gives the nearest bookcase a cursory examination. 

Lilith grumbles as she ties the sash, and looks up at him. “Yes. My head is killing me and I’m going to go back to bed in a moment but yes I am alive. Sort of.”

“Good.” Adam drags his gaze from the books to her, and they lock gazes. Her hair is down and the curls frame her face which is paler than usual. She looks on the mend but with a ways to go, and it’s reassuring to see.

“Thank you for bringing me home,” Lilith murmurs. “I owe you for that.”

Adam shrugs. “Believe me it was all in my own self-interest.”

Her face wrinkles up at that, but she nods wryly. “True. You got your . . . ?”

“Yes,” Adam assures her. 

They continue staring at each other for a moment, and Adam finds her more interesting in the soft light of the kitchen versus the harsher florescence of the hospital lab. 

“You played my kinnor,” Lilith suddenly accuses him. “I found it up in my room.”

“Yes,” Adam says. “I had permission, and I thought it would soothe you.”

She gives a grudging nod of agreement and pours herself a mug of soup, hesitating a moment. 

“Thank you but no.”

“Sorry, force of habit,” Lilith replies and carries her meal to the table. Adam sits at the other end, propping his elbows up and watching her. It’s enough to make her slightly self-conscious and she glares over the rim. 

“What else do you play?” He asks, finally taking off his sunglasses.

She gives a sad shrug. “I used to play a mandolin but haven’t picked it up in years.”

“Do you—” Adam gets no further on his question as Lilith holds up a hand.

“No. You don’t get to _ask_ questions if you’re not going to answer any.”

“Fine,” Adam growls. It’s not fine, of course. He’s bored and curious and all too aware she’s in her lingerie under her robe.  
“Besides, you’ve got me _all_ figured out,” Lilith mutters, her tone just a hint away from a taunt. “Right?”

A challenge. Adam arches an eyebrow and looks around the kitchen, taking in more of the details. “I know you’re well-traveled, that you’re currently single and you know at least three languages.”

Lilith cocks her head. “Not bad. I know you’re originally Welsh, you’ve got--”

“--What makes you think I’m Welsh?” Adam demands, curiosity piqued. 

“The way you held the kinnor, and that . . . lilt thing in your voice when you get stressed,” Lilith replies. “Black hair, green eyes are kind of a national default, genetically speaking.”

He feels self-conscious for a moment, which is ridiculous. Why it should matter that this woman has picked up on some aspect of himself that Adam hasn’t thought of in years? It’s not as if it’s significant.

“You’ve got some connection to the music industry and you wear a size eleven shoe,” Lilith finishes, along with her soup. “Oh, and a huge flask collection now I guess.”

“I,” Adam pauses and sighs, “do. I suppose I should bring them back so you can autoclave and reuse them.”

“It would help,” Lilith rises to take her empty mug back into the kitchen, walking slowly. “You know, it might be safer to just . . . pick up your nutrition here instead of the hospital.”

Adam stares at her. “I prefer the mutual jeopardy,” he growls.

“Oh bullshit,” Lilith replies in an almost cheery tone. “It stopped being ‘mutual jeopardy’ the minute I created an account for you and started keeping receipts.”

“ _Fuck._ ” It slips out before Adam can stop it, and Lilith shoots him a patient look.

“I’m going to ignore that and point out that it would really be much more beneficial to _you_ in the long run. I could bring it here each Friday and you could pick it up whenever you wanted, even if I went away for the weekend.”

Adam fumes, seriously unhappy at the clever way this zombie has let him grow comfortable with her, and how he’s let himself be lulled into this arrangement. He shoots her a hateful glare and seeing it, Lilith comes over to him, boldly bending down until she’s into his personal space, her own expression flinty.

“Get _over_ yourself,” she whispers. “If you even _start_ kvetching about me tricking you, or some such crap I will come down on you like the wrath of the God you don’t believe in.”

A bold threat and a rather ridiculous one, Adam thinks, and quick as a blink, he tugs the sash of her robe out of its bow. It’s a petty move on his part; not the sort of thing he’d normally do but when her robe gapes open . . . Lilith coolly ignores it.

Adam can’t; his gaze drops.

“Oy, what are you, seven? Got a good eyeful already?” Lilith hisses, finally re-wrapping herself and flicking his forehead. “You’re a married man; act like it!”

That didn’t go as planned, and Adam sits there, not quite brooding and not quite embarrassed because while it was what his zombie Ian would have called a ‘classic dick move’ it also brings home the truth that there is a great deal about Doctor Schatten that he wants to know, both in a secular and biblical sense.

“I’m not sure I _like_ you,” he finally grunts, “ _or_ your manipulations.”

“My God you really _are_ an alter kacker aren’t you? Fine, you know where the door is, and you’ve got enough bottled red to keep you busy for a week, so don’t linger on my account, friend!” Lilith rolls her eyes and flounces out of the kitchen.

Adam stays where he is, thinking. 

He should go of course, but then again he hears Eve in his thoughts, chiding him, reminding him that the zombies can’t help themselves when it comes to drama, and that part of their charm lies in how fiercely they react to the world. _They take so much as a matter of life and death, my love and for them it is._ Eve murmurs.

 _I . . . haven’t done this in a long time,_ Adam thinks. _She’s not some drinkable poppet I can discard, Eve, and I’ve forgotten how to . . . press my suit._

 _Oh Adam, really? Ten fingers, an instrument in reach and you’re telling me you can’t woo this first wife of yours? Darling, I’m very close to laughing at you,_ Eve coos.

That makes him scowl, and Adam finally rises, sweeping through the downstairs, finding the kinnor and scooping it up. He climbs the stairs even as he checks the tuning, listening to the strings as he moves quietly into the bedroom.

It’s empty, but there’s the sound of a shower running behind the bathroom door, so he settles into the boudoir chair in the corner of the bedroom and waits. After a while the door opens and Lilith glides out, stopping when she spots him.

“The _hell?_ ”

“You’re right,” Adam admits, giving one experimental strum across the strings. “I _am_ full of myself, I _do_ sometimes behave as if I were seven, and I’m most _definitely_ an alter kacker. Was that what you needed to hear?”

She nods. It’s a good start.

“Get in bed and I’ll play for you,” he tells her. “Then I’ll go. Like last night.”

Lilith eyes him suspiciously for a moment, and then does what he says, dropping her robe and sliding into the bed quickly, but not so quickly that he doesn’t realize she’s naked in the sheets.

“You’re very . . . trusting,” he tells her dryly.

“I’m confident,” comes her counter. “You don’t want to kill me, and vampires don’t shtup so I’m in the catbird seat.”

“Oh we . . . shtup,” Adam informs her, pleased to see her blush at this information. “Quite a bit, in fact.”

“Why? It’s not like you can procreate. At least not that way.”

“No, but it’s still a glorious way to die a little death,” he puns. “Or cause several of them.”

Now she looks both nervous and he flatters himself, intrigued. 

Lilith pulls her covers up a little higher. “Why should I believe you?”

“Touché,” he chuckles, and settles the kinnor into the curve of his arm. “Shhhh, close your eyes and just listen.”

He plays his own compositions for her. Adam listens to her sigh with pleasure, watches her fight sleep, and when she finally drops off into slumber, he gives the instrument a last grateful pat and watches her for a moment longer.

“Lilith . . .” Adam sighs. “I wish I understood.”


	5. Chapter 5

And so the Friday night visits begin. Adam starts by staying only half an hour, but gradually the time expands when he discovers Lilith plays chess, and she isn’t adverse to a session or two of improvisation when he brings an instrument along with him. Once she talks him into watching an art house film about Montmarte, which Adam grudgingly enjoys.

He doesn’t drink in front of her though. Never. Adam always takes his good stuff home and pours his shot into the little aperitif glass, downing it in one quick gulp. The orgasmic rush it creates isn’t something he’s willing to let Lilith see just yet.

It’s not quite shame and not quite secrecy but some long-standing combination of the two that keeps him from sharing the process.

Eve understands. “She’s certainly not ready for that, I agree. How goes the seduction?”

“Poorly,” Adam gripes, looking up to the ceiling and away from Eve’s image on the screen. “She’s full of questions. Bursting at the seams with them.”

“Ah,” Eve nods. “Questions that require a bit of _trust_ to answer?”

“Precisely.”

“Well it’s your judgment call completely, my love, but if it was _my_ seduction scenario . . .”

Eve trails off, smiling gently, waiting for him to rise to the bait.

He does of course. For all his centuries of world-weariness, the gentler sex still confounds him at times, and Adam knows he can use all the help he can get. Particularly from Eve, who knows him better than anyone else. “If it was _your_ scenario?” he responds, turning his gaze back to the television screen.

“Well I know _I_ could have a lot of fun with a give and take, frankly. One for one.”

“Show and Tell?” Adam murmurs witheringly. 

Eve sighs. “One question each per visit. _If_ she agrees to it. Enough to draw her in and reassure her. You know it might be time to have a scientist in the family, especially someone so . . . well-connected.”

It’s pragmatically sensible, and Adam knows Eve’s voicing what he himself has thought more than once since every year the risk of contamination grows.

“I don’t know if she’s angling for immortality,” Adam tells his wife. “In all the time we’ve talked, she’s never hinted at it.”

“Rara avis indeed,” Eve muses. 

“There’s also the little matter of _you_ ,” Adam sighs. “Apparently the good doctor has a sense of propriety about marriage.”

“Oh pooh,” Eve waves a hand dismissively. “Really? I thought this generation was a bit more _receptive_ to poly-amorous lifestyles.”

“She also thinks we don’t . . . shtup,” Adam feels himself smirk at that. The Yiddish word has a bluntness to it that’s fun to say.

Eve chuckles. “O-ho won’t _she_ be in for a surprise, then!”

It’s flattering and comforting and Adam sighs. “I love you. I miss you.”

“As I do _you_ ,” Eve assures him. “Would it help if I spoke to her?”

Adam considers this a moment. “Possibly. But that would mean inviting Lilith here . . .”

“You’ll need to hook up the bathroom then,” Eve points out. “She’s _not_ going to appreciate your offer to piss in the _garden_ , Adam.”

He scowls, thinking of the work that will entail. He can do it; Adam has enough plumbing, carpentry and engineering skills to handle the process, but it’s not going to be enjoyable. “Fuck.”

“Now, now,” Eve soothes him. “It’s just a matter of tapping the main and I know you’re more than capable, darling.”

“The question is whether it’s worth it,” Adam points out, and scowls.

** * *** ***

When he slips in the back door at the end of the week, however, Lilith isn’t there. Adam finds a note addressed to him on the kitchen table: Adam, _I’ll be a little late; help yourself. L_

Another shift in routine. Adam grumbles to himself and takes a peek into the refrigerator, spotting the flasks in the back. He debates on whether or not to simply take them and go, but it also dawns on him that he now has an opportunity to explore Lilith’s house.

Tempting. 

Adam suspects he may never have this opportunity again and weighs it against the odds of being caught. Trust goes both ways, he knows, and yet the chance of finding out a bit more about his . . .

He doesn’t really know what to _call_ Lilith, Adam realizes. She’s not exactly his benefactress, since he pays for his drink, and business partner isn’t quite right either. Supplier is probably the closest term, but it lacks the emotional underpinnings of their burgeoning relationship, and certainly doesn’t reflect his intentions towards her. 

Perhaps _desires_ is better descriptor than intentions, he decides, and heads upstairs to snoop.

Her clothes are mildly interesting, and Adam appreciates her scent that lingers on them over the styles and colors. Lilith’s closet is tidy, and holds nothing except the expected items. 

Likewise her dresser offers little beyond a pretty display of silk panties, and Adam allows himself a slightly boorish moment to admire them. One factor of this age he definitely appreciates is the minimization of women’s undergarments; having dealt with corsets, hoop skirts and untold layers of starched linen, this trend is a bonus when it comes to seduction.

He twirls a thong on one finger before dropping it back into the drawer.

A quick inspection of her nightstand reveals two unfinished books—a tome on the life of Louisa May Alcott, and a science fiction novel by Octavia Butler—and a small velvet bag. Adam opens it to find a top of the line vibrator, a sleek thing of chrome and lavender silicone, complete with remote control. He examines it, intrigued, because while sex toys are nothing new to him, Adam does appreciate good engineering.

Examining the device arouses him a bit. Adam studies it, aware that Lilith might never tell him she has such a toy. It too, carries her scent, although with a richer hint of musk, of course, and he’s in the middle of figuring out how many settings it has when he hears voices of people approaching the house.

Moving with supernatural speed he re bags the vibrator, closes the nightstand and slips out of the room, carried by a strong necessity not to be caught here. One of the voices is Lilith’s, but the other is unfamiliar.

And male. 

This irks Adam, who is already on edge. He pauses at the top of the stairs, listening as the voices get louder. 

“. . . can’t I come in?”

“It’s been a nice evening, but no, I’m planning on getting to bed early.”

“I could _help_ with that,” the man murmurs seductively, and Adam sneers; some lines never change.

“Oh I’m sure, but not tonight,” Lilith replies with coolness to her tone. 

Adam glides down the stairs just as the door opens, and he’s gratified to see Lilith shoot him a look not so much of surprise as exasperated with a hint of gratitude. The man’s expression is much easier to read.

Annoyance.

“Lilith,” Adam murmurs, and before she can resist, he slips his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her hairline. He keeps his grip on her light and loose so that she can move out of it if she wants.

“Who’s this?” the man asks, his civility a tad forced.

“I was going to ask the same question,” Adam returns, keeping his face bland. 

Lilith doesn’t quite step out of the circle of his arms, but her tone is firm. “Adam’s an _old_ friend,” she replies, with a huffy emphasis on ‘old.’

“Indeed,” Adam murmurs, “little scamp.”

The man shifts, his annoyance shifting into awkward discomfort now, and he glances at Lilith. “Ah, okay. Didn’t know you had a . . . roommate, Lil.”

“Oh I just drop in from time to time,” Adam corrects him, and keeps his gaze on Lilith, who is trying to ignore him.

“Anyway, if you’d give us a moment, I’ll see you in the _kitchen_ , Adam,” she mutters, and finally pulls away from him. Adam turns and glides away slowly. He hears the conversation behind him.

“Seriously, Lil? If you were involved, all you had to do was _say_ so. I don’t appreciate being led _on_ like this!”

“I don’t recall leading you anywhere, Terry, and if you don’t believe Adam’s a friend then that’s _your_ problem.”

“Whatever,” comes the final grumble, and then moments later the front door closes. Adam moves to lean against one of the kitchen bookcases, knowing he may need to move quickly.

Lilith steps in, tosses her handbag on one of the chairs and gives a deep sigh. “I don’t know whether to smack you or kiss you for that,” she tells him in a flat voice. “What were you doing upstairs?”

Damn. Adam had hoped she hadn’t noticed that. “Your invitation does mean I have the run of your house.”

“So you were snooping?”

There is no way out. “Yes.”

For a moment she looks thunderous, but her expression shifts to a weary resignation. “I guess I should have expected it. I would too, if I were in the same position.”

“Who was he?”

“That’s a question. We’re not _answering_ questions, remember?” comes her tart response.  
“New proposition,” Adam offers. “A question for a question.”

“What if a question needs clarification; are those _additional_ questions or do they fall within the scope of the original question?” 

Adam considers this. “They fall within the original scope, but only as clarification. Is this acceptable?”

Lilith doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she goes to one of the cabinets and opens it, pulling out a bottle of Amaretto. After Lilith pours herself a tiny glass, she brings it to the table and gestures Adam to sit, which he does.

“All right. A question for a question. Who asks first?”

He bows his head slightly. “Ladies first.”

“Oh good,” Lilith murmurs, and sips her drink. 

She sets it down and looks across the table at him. “Adam, what exactly do you _want_ from me?”


	6. Chapter 6

This takes him aback for a moment; out of all the first questions he’s anticipated, this one wasn’t on the list. He leans back and tries to gather his thoughts, but he realizes his panic shows a little bit. “What makes you think I _want_ anything from you?”

Lilith’s eye roll is eloquent. “Is this the vampire equivalent of pulling my pigtails?”

He gives a tiny wince. “You’re irritating. And for some unfathomable reason that . . . intrigues me, I suppose. Out of all the zom—humans I’ve had to deal with these past decades, you’re neither clueless about, nor afraid of, what I am.”

Adam is pleased by how nicely phrased this is until Lilith laughs in that throaty way of hers.

“Nice, but that doesn’t answer the question. That’s simply a reason you hang out with me. I ask again-- what do you _want_ from me?”

“To _have_ you,” he replies, giving into his natural impatience. “Your vitality, your overwhelming joie de vivre and ruddy charms whet _all_ my appetites, Lilith Schatten.”

To her credit she doesn’t look surprised, but a tiny moue crosses her face. “I _had_ to ask. So is this just for my blood, or are you talking boinking too?”

Adam leans forward, hunching his arms down on the tabletop like a panther in a hunting crouch. “ _Have_ , as in the second definition in the OED, to wit: To experience or undergo, sub-definition, to engage in sexual intercourse.”

Lilith holds his gaze, although the corners of her mouth are fighting the urge to turn up. “There. Was that so hard to admit?”

Now it’s his turn to shoot an exasperated look towards the ceiling. “You’re infuriating as well. By all rights I should absolutely detest you.”

“But you don’t,” she points out, adding, “It’s very reassuring to learn even the undead are ruled occasionally by their shvantzes. So, you . . . desire me. Not something I was expecting, actually. Aren’t you . . . married?”

“Is that a second question or a clarification question?” Adam snipes politely, crossing his arms because he’s feeling a little vulnerable. Odd sensation that—he hasn’t felt this way in years. Decades.

“Clarification. Lets me know if you’re actually trying to get into my pants or not,” Lilith replies.

“I _am_ married to Eve,” Adam murmurs. Seeing Lilith’s patient expression, he reluctantly adds, “We have a very strong and flexible marriage that defies conventional definition and permits each of us to form attachments to others. Eve believes I should . . . follow up on my particular interest in you.”

Lilith chuckles. “Convenient.”

“True,” Adam sighs. “You can ask her yourself if you like.”

This surprises Lilith and she gives him a considering look. “Really?”

“She suggested it,” Adam mutters. “For some reason.”

Lilith props an elbow on the table and rests her chin in her palm. “This just gets weirder and weirder. I’m being stalked by a vampire who not only wants to bite me but bone me as well, and he’s got his wife’s permission to do it.”

For a moment Adam and Lilith stare at each other.

“She is _not_ giving me permission,” Adam huffs a bit. “She’s giving me encouragement. And I’m _not_ stalking you.”

Lilith doesn’t look convinced. “Okay, so go ahead and ask _your_ question then.”

That one is simple, and Adam cocks his head as he studies her. “Are you attracted to me?”

This brings a burble of husky laughter out of Lilith; she tosses back her curls before replying. “If I lie and say ‘no’ does that shut this whole thing down?”

“So you _are_ attracted,” Adam muses, feeling a moment of relief at that. He’s been through the awkwardness of dealing with emotional rejection before and while it’s bearable, it’s depressing. Amelia Earhart only wanted to be friends, as did Anne of Cleves and Marie Taglioni. “Why?”

“ _That_ sounds like another question to me,” Lilith counters, still smirking. “And a pretty egotistic one at that.”

“Clarification,” Adam insists. “I have all the time in the world and you do not.”

She looks willing to indulge him at the moment and shakes her head in amusement. “Yes, you shmuck, I am. Of _course_ I am. You’ve got that entire ‘tall dark Englishman’ pose going, which might be pretty shallow of me, but added to that are the facts that you’re possibly an evolutionary oubliette and have first-hand knowledge about the last seven hundred years.”

Against his will Adam smiles. Right up until Lilith adds, “But I’m not jumping your bones, Mr. O Negative. You. Are. married.”

“Right.” he sighs. “You definitely need to talk to Eve, then. Come on.”

“Where?” Lilith wants to know.

Adam rises, and gives her a faint smile. “My house.”

*** *** ***

It takes some convincing, but in the end Lilith agrees, albeit with some trepidation. She nods when she sees his car, remembering it vaguely from when she had the flu, and stays silent for most of the drive. 

When they turn and pull into the overgrown parking space, Lilith gives a shudder though, and digs in her purse for a flashlight, which amuses Adam. “Really?”

“ _You_ may have night vision; I’d prefer not to twist my ankle. So is this place some sort of dungeon?”

He doesn’t answer, but walks slowly enough for her to keep up, and as they step in through back door, he flips on a few lights. 

She gasps. “You _live_ in this dreck? Oy yoy yoy!”

“Stop kvetching,” Adam warns her, feeling a twinge of embarrassment about the way she gingerly tiptoes around piles of books and papers, brushes cobwebs aside. “Please remember I don’t have or want company. I have other matters to pursue.”

“Too bad those don’t include basic sanitation,” she grumbles in an undertone he hears anyway. “I can write my _name_ in this dust.”

“Consider it a tablet of the ages,” he snaps, and makes his way into the living room. Lilith eventually follows, eyeing everything in a dubious manner until she sees the instruments. Those make her smile, and she notes the recording equipment with a nod as well.

“Okay, this is better. Clutter I can understand. Where do you keep your . . . supplies?”

“I have a hidden freezer set at four degrees Celsius,” he informs her loftily.

“Is it sanitary?” Lilith persists, looking a little concerned now.

Adam looks up from where he’s turning on the television screen and arches an eyebrow. “I never spill. _Ever_. Come sit down.” 

She does, still looking around at the walls while Adam picks up his phone and dials. Lilith turns to see the ancient landline phone and he sees her bite her lip, but when the snow on the screen clears, they both shift their attention to it.

Eve. Glorious, wonderful Eve. Adam feels a swell of longing rise up in his chest for her and smiles. Just _seeing_ her helps lighten his mood and he murmurs, “Eve,” reverently.

“A-dam,” she coos back, and turns her dark eyes to the person next to him. “This must be Lilith. Hello.”

Lilith lifts a hand and waves shyly. Adam knows Eve’s presence is powerful even through ancient technology, and that being caught up in her glamour is par for the course. Eve has charmed kings and emperors; popes and presidents.

“So glad to finally meet you,” Eve murmurs. “Adam has been talking about you for _ages_.”

“ _Eve_ \--” He murmurs, embarrassed.

Her glance flickers back to him and a sweet smile slides across her mouth. “You _know_ I speak the truth, darling.” She looks again to Lilith and dramatically whispers, “He’s quite smitten you know.”

“And . . . you’re _okay_ with this?” Lilith asks.

Eve nods. “I am. If we had only the average number of years to live Adam and I probably would have been monogamous for that span. We’ve _been_ monogamous for long stretches in fact, but centuries and distance put a different perspective on a relationship like ours. I don’t love my husband any less for taking the occasional lover just as he doesn’t love me any less for the same. Our bond surpasses the physical, Lilith, and in fact, if Adam is attracted to you, then I am as well.”

The expression on Lilith’s face is enough to make Adam run his tongue along one fang tip to prevent himself from laughing aloud.   
She looks . . . fascinated.

“So let me get this straight . . . I’m being invited to be Adam’s lover and . . . possibly yours too? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“It’s an open invitation, but not required,” Eve smiles gently. “All I want you to know is that I love Adam and I am delighted that he’s found you. You’re already a bit of a muse for him, and should matters go further, it will be an amazing experience for both of you.”

Lilith cocks her head. “Why aren’t you here? Where _are_ you?”

“Tangiers,” Eve explains. “I’m looking after a very old and dear friend at the moment.”

“Tangiers,” Lilith echoes and she shoots a sidelong look at Adam. He gives a faint nod and stares at Eve.

“I told you—she’s stubborn and full of questions.”

“But fierce and beautiful too. Certainly lives up to her reputation in the Talmud. And now my darlings, I need to go—the sun is about to come up and I’m due for a nap. Take very good care of each other, and we’ll talk another time. And Adam--byddwch yn amyneddgar.”


	7. Chapter 7

Lilith is quiet for the ride back to her house, and Adam wonders if she’s having second thoughts. He knows it’s entirely possible that the whole proposition is too much for her and she’ll wake up in the morning rejecting it all. That they’ll go back to transactions in the hospital every Friday midnight with nothing more between them beyond that.

He hopes that’s not the case.

Over the last few months Adam realizes he’s begun to enjoy time with Lilith. The simple discussions and debates have pulled him out of the rut he’s been sinking into of late. The jam sessions have sparked some creativity as well, and overall Adam knows all of this is good for him.

And there’s the physical attraction, which has been rising steadily. He’s dreamt of Lilith—not something he’s willing to admit to her _or_ Eve—and Adam is much more aware of Lilith’s scent and warmth and vitality. She personifies the old saying—‘the blood is the life.’ Certainly she brings life to him in more ways than one. 

And yet she’s slightly dangerous too. Lilith not only has intelligence, but also the drive to _use_ it. She’s made her intentions and ambitions _known_ about studying him and his place between life and death. Adam suspects given time, she might very well figure out exactly what he, Eve and the others are and how they became that way.

He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

They arrive and he walks her to her door, feeling self-conscious because it’s such an old-fashioned thing to do. Adam has lived through decades were women were _always_ escorted to and fro; he still feels a sense of masculine prerogative even walking with Eve, who can take very good care of herself. Still, it will allow him a last moment to suss Lilith out.

They reach the porch, and Adam waits as she fishes out her key and unlocks the door. Lilith lays a hand on the knob and looks at Adam, taking in a deep breath. “I’ve got a lot of thinking to do, and I’m going to use the entire week until I see you again to do it.”

He nods; it’s a sensible choice. “Wise.”

“In the meantime, I would like a kiss. One kiss, to . . . test the waters,” Lilith murmurs.

Adam feels the heat of her blush as she asks. He holds back a moment, waiting until she looks up again, then glides closer. “One,” he echoes.

Lilith raises her face and he bends closer, pressing his mouth to hers as gently as he can, but the warmth of her soft lips sends a shudder through him that Adam can barely suppress. It’s _dizzying_ , this heat, sensual and compelling, but it’s not all. Her flavor is of sugar and Amaretto; he wants more, flicking a tongue to the corner of her mouth, tickling her, making her laugh and break the kiss.

“You’re _tasting_ me!” Lilith laughs, her chuckle a vibration in the air between them. “That’s sexy.”

Adam hangs his head a little, trying to regain his balance. He shoots her a sidelong glance in the dim light of the porch, trying to judge her reaction while hiding his own. “You taste . . . delicious,” he admits.

She pushes open the door, still smiling. “Thanks. See you on Friday.”

He waits until she’s gone inside and closed the door behind her before he steps off the porch again. Adam goes to the car, but he’s too keyed up to go home just yet, so he drives.

The quiet dark streets slide by as he cruises along. Adam smells snow in the air, the dankness of the nearby water and the hints of wood smoke too. He sees distant headlights and the spiky outlines of bare trees, the dark ghosts of abandoned buildings but most of his mind is wrapped around the memory of the last half hour.

Adam isn’t sure if he’s ready for this, if he can live up to whatever expectations Lilith has of what their relationship will be. But he’s unexpectedly hopeful too—an emotion he hasn’t felt in a long time, and when he returns home, he finds it easy to sleep.

The week goes by, and Adam pushes himself into music to keep from speculation. He lays out arrangements for three songs, adds several tracks over a minor piece he’s been toying with and leaves all sorts of requests for Ian that are definitely puzzling for the kid.

“You could order a lot of this over the internet,” Ian tells him. “Not that I’m complaining, but you could see what you’re getting before you, uh, get it.”

“I know, but I trust your judgment completely,” Adam tells his assistant, smooth in the lie. He used to merely tolerate Ian but of late he’s gotten dimly fond of the lad, who strives so hard to please and takes his work seriously despite the non-disclosure agreement and strange requests. “Besides, cash makes everything easier.”

“Yeah,” Ian agrees, and heads out with a new list, happily on the hunt. 

Before he goes, Adam adds, “The bathroom’s fixed too.”

“Great!” Ian beams. “Man, I’m glad you didn’t have to put up with that for long! It’s terrible when you can’t, you know . . .”

Adam nods solemnly, amused all over again at how zombies are so tied to bodily functions, although the option of a bath or shower is appealing to him. He thinks hard, trying to remember his last bath . . . shortly after the terrible events at Kent State, Adam remembers.

His body, he knows, is in a perpetual state of self-care, self-cleaning.

Adam has spent so much time in his current state that it’s hard to think back to when he was among the living. Dimly he recalls aches and fatigue, chill and tension. Now, he lives with only pain and pleasure as his responses. Sunlight and hunger bring pain, as does injury. Pleasure comes from the good stuff and sex and some sense of accomplishment, Adam supposes. It’s been a while since he thought about it.

He knows he and Eve have no particular scent, which is one of the first things zombies notice about them. For all their touted higher intelligence, zombies are still very much hard-wired to their animal natures. For years he wore cinnamon or myrrh while Eve preferred smoky herbs or a touch of resin—throwbacks to her first days in the dark woods that used to cover most of England.

As a joke years ago Eve once presented him with a bottle of Bay Rum, laughing with delight at his distaste. He supposes it’s still somewhere in the house, gathering dust. Now Adam rarely bothers with scent, letting the woods of the guitars or the dust of the house rest on his skin.

He considers taking a bath.

*** *** ***   
Waking up at sunset on Friday, Adam opens his eyes from his latest dream and sighs. He’d been climbing a hill in unfamiliar terrain, never reaching the top, but closing in on it with every stride. No one else had been there, but the way seemed familiar. He’s not a big one for dream analysis but he’s fairly sure it’s symbolic of his relationship with Lilith.

Sigmund would have made much of it, Adam thinks dryly.

He rises, runs a bath, and carries his glass of good stuff to the tub, drinking it after he climbs into the hot water. It’s good—surprisingly so—and Adam considers bathing a bit more often. He also makes a note to check out Lilith’s bathroom and see what she stocks there. It’s only when he climbs out that Adam realizes he has no towels, and he glares at his reflection in the glass, naked and dripping, acutely aware of the foolishness of moment.

“You’re _not_ one of them,” he tells his image with cutting sarcasm. 

Still, it’s only a mild annoyance and he shakes himself off before finding something to wear. Adam dresses, collects the empty flasks and makes his way outside where fresh snow blankets everything. He doesn’t feel the chill, but what does annoy him is that he’ll leave tire tracks when he goes. At this point he can’t do anything about it, though.

He thinks of the kiss as he drives the frosted streets.

Caution makes Adam remember to park a bit away on the edge of a 24 hour convenience store next to a VW. He takes his time walking to Lilith’s house, deliberately keeping his pace slow. Part of it is to avoid attention of course; he’s gotten very good at not catching anyone’s eye. The other part is simple trepidation. Jaded he may be but Lilith’s choice isn’t predictable, and the uncertainty holds a bit of delicious dread for him. Eve accuses him of deriving masochistic pleasure in moments like this, and he’s not sure if she’s wrong.

Adam manages a smile at that, and turns up the walk to Lilith’s house. The porch light is on, and when he rings the bell, it’s a short wait before the door opens.

“Wow. You’re at the front door,” Lilith murmurs, clearly surprised. “Not just waltzing in the back door.”

“It’s . . . a formal occasion,” Adam points out. Lilith is in a dress; a burgundy cashmere one that hugs her hips and chest and complements her curls. 

She notices his stare and blushes. “Agreed. Come in.”

He follows her, catching a hint of perfume in her wake. This would seem to be a good sign. Lilith moves to the kitchen, taking a seat at the table and motioning to him to sit at the other end.

There is a folder on the table. Adam eyes it cautiously as Lilith purses her mouth. 

“What’s this?”

“Our stipulations,” she murmurs.

“Stipulations?” Adam feels himself tense up.

Lilith sighs, and pushes the folder towards him. “Yes. I’m sure you and Eve have made a lot of agreements in your lifetimes, formal and informal, but _I’ve_ only got the next forty years or so and I’m cautious. I’ve put down what you can expect from me and what I’d like to expect from you if we’re going to be in any sort of relationship.”

Adam stares at her, but Lilith holds his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. He does note the faintest of quivers along her chin. He picks up the folder and flips it open, scanning the first page, and then as the first line catches his attention, reading more slowly. 

After five minutes, Adam looks up at Lilith, choosing his words carefully. “You’re serious.”

She nods.

Adam looks again at the page. “You are offering me and Eve a year of hospitality, support, and blood in exchange for research access? How romantic,” he growls. “Clearly my kiss made an _amazing_ impression on you!”

“It _did_ ,” Lilith cuts into his rant before he can get rolling. “Really it did. I enjoyed it enough to stay up all night working on the rough draft of what you’re looking at, because I don’t want the two of you to keep existing on reckless arrangements, bubeleh.”


	8. Chapter 8

The practical part of this arrangement wars with his pride, and Adam looks down again at the pages. “Why a year?”

“It’s the only option I have; my annual review will determine if the hospital keeps me or not,” Lilith pointed out. “Staffing is driven by the economy, and you may have noticed that Detroit isn’t exactly booming right now. I’m good enough that I know I can find work, but I may have to leave the area.”

More practicalities; Adam realizes she’s right. “I see. And _your_ benefits?”

“A chance to collect and compile data of course,” she replies. “First hand.”

“Is that _all_?” he presses, suddenly aware of how she’s shifting in her seat and avoiding his gaze. The flush of pink on her face looks delicious.

“No, of course not. But I’m already a klutz when it comes to relationships so I wasn’t sure how to put it down in writing. It’s not a marriage contract or anything, Adam, just a formal statement of conditions I guess. So you and Eve know what you’re getting from me, and I know what I’m getting from you two.”

“So you expect me to sign this?” Adam asks, amused now at how ritualized this seduction has suddenly become. He hasn’t had to sign contracts since before Queen Anne’s time, and certainly not over matters of the heart. Lilith’s document does make an odd sort of sense, though, and although he’s a little leery of leaving his true name on it, if it gives her peace of mind, he’s willing to.

“If you would,” she asks shyly. “I can email Eve a copy too, if she’d like.”

“She’d appreciate that,” Adam murmurs, and accepts the pen Lilith hands him. Carefully he signs his name— _Adam Moss-Morgans of Caer Gai_ —and absently blows on the page, forgetting for a moment that the ink is already drying. He looks up; Lilith is trying not to giggle.

“My turn to sign,” she splutters.

Adam manages to read her signature upside down. _Lilith Ayelet Schatten_ , she scrawls, with only the slightest hesitation before setting the pen down.

“Now we should affix it with a seal,” he teases. “Surely you’ve got the wax and device ready to put legitimacy to this document of ours.”

“We could take it to the notary public,” Lilith points out playfully, “Although they’re going to think we’re a pair of idiots.”

“Shall we make it a _blood_ oath?” Adam offers, deadpan, “or would that be a little too Hammer Horror for you?”

Lilith doesn’t roll her eyes but it’s a near thing. She tucks the papers back into the folder and pulls out her cell phone. “I will need Eve’s number though. I’ve got some things I want to ask her without you around.”

Immediately he glares. “Oh really?”

“Yes. Woman to woman questions that I don’t think you’re qualified to answer, zucker tuchas.”

The term makes him stare a moment, and he rattles off his wife’s phone number as Lilith enters it into her device.

“Okay, lovely. So . . .” Looking up, Lilith smiles. “What’s first?”

Adam rises, pushing himself up from the table. He glances out the kitchen window into the cold, dark night. “A walk.”

It’s still and quiet, but Adam knows it’s cold because Lilith leans against him as they stroll along the sidewalk. As they pass under one of the streetlights, he speaks. “The second time I married Eve, we walked to the cathedral in Somerset after twilight. The bishop there married us on the north porch. He died three years later when a chimney fell on him and his wife during the great storm of seventeen oh three.”

Lilith takes this in, and murmurs, “What about the, ah, first time?”

“The first time was shortly after Arthur married Catherine.”

“Friends of yours?”

“In a way,” Adam tells her lightly. “He was going to be king but died young. She did go on to be queen, not that it did her any good. Eve and I left court and quit England before Henry ascended the throne.”

“Shit!” Lilith gasps, “You’re talking about Henry the _Eighth_?”

Adam can’t deny getting a laugh out of her astonishment, and nods nonchalantly. Dropping names isn’t something he normally does but the fun of startling his companion lightens the moment.

“My point is that Eve and I have been together for a very long time,” Adam says. “Periodically we re-marry to remind ourselves of what we mean to each other. Our third marriage was in eighteen sixty-eight which means we’re probably due for another one sometime in the next fifty years. Vampires take commitments seriously.”

Lilith looks impressed. “I see. I guess that means you know each other pretty well then too.”

Adam briefly smiles. They cross the street and turn towards the little park in the distance. Snow has piled on the swings there, and even the slide wears a crown of white at the top. Lilith looks to Adam, who looks back at her.

“So you can’t really . . . procreate. Have children the usual way,” Lilith states, watching him.

Adam shakes his head. “My seed is without life, and Eve’s womb will not harbor life. Our bodies . . . are preserved, in a sense. They function, but not in the same way they did when we were living. It’s as if we are turned inside out.”

“How about the other functions? Breathing? Urinating?” Lilith wants to know as she brushes snow from the seat of a swing and sits. Adam drifts over to lean against one leg of the swing, arms crossed over his chest.

“Barely needed. I piss once a month if that often, and haven’t had a bowel movement in twenty years—there’s very little in the blood we ingest that is wasted. From the few injuries I’ve experienced over the decades I know I don’t have a circulation, but there is fluid within me—semen, lymph of some form I suspect; enough mucus and other liquids to make sure my eyes and throat don’t dry out. Can we talk of something else, please?”

“Okay,” Lilith twists the swing a little. “You should probably know I was married for a while. It didn’t work out.”

This is news to Adam, who gives her a sharp look. “What happened?”

“He got someone else pregnant, and chose to go with her to raise the baby,” Lilith replies with a one-shoulder shrug. “I thought it was a good decision for them.”

Adam hears how light her voice is, and knows the hurt runs deep even though she wants to pretend it doesn’t. He takes a step closer. “How long ago?”

“Four years,” she replies quietly. “I moved here to . . . make a fresh start, I guess. I didn’t want to be working in the same hospital.”

Adam cocks his head. “How long were you two married?”

“Eighteen months, give or take,” Lilith sighs looking away. “It probably explains a little of my caution.”

It does, and Adam feels a pang for her pain. “I’m sorry you were hurt.”

“Me too. But time heals, they say.”

Adam moves to her, crouching down so he’s eye level with Lilith, and reaches to brush a curl back from her face. “Consider me an authority on time—it does. You’re getting chilled, though, and we should go back.”

Lilith takes his hand, letting him pull her up out of the swing, and instead of stepping back, Adam gathers her in, holding her against his chest. He knows he can’t offer warmth—not until he’s absorbed some of hers—but he hopes she’ll take the comfort he’s offering.

She does. Lilith stays pressed against him, and both of them stay quiet as they share the silent intimacy of touch for a long moment. The press of her full chest against him awakens his desire, and Adam slips his hands around her waist, enjoying the sensation.

When she looks up, her eyes search his and Adam meets her gaze in the shadowy light. Lilith leans up and kisses him, breathlessly soft, her lips parted invitingly.

It’s an invitation Adam is more than ready to accept, and he returns the kiss, savoring her taste, her warmth, feeling the heady rush of desire tingling through him. It’s an echo of blood lust mingled with pure masculine response on his part; when they break the kiss, Lilith draws in a breath, shuddering slightly.

Adam can’t tell if it’s because of the cold or the heat.


	9. Chapter 9

They spend the better part of the night tangled on the sofa in Lilith’s living room, not speaking much, doing little else beyond lying together and holding each other. It occurs to Adam that this woman in his arms is craving simple affection, and he’s glad to give it to her. Passion can wait a little longer; the moment calls for gentleness.

It’s a mutual need, he realizes. While he and Eve can and do spend years apart, they are rarely out of arm’s reach of each other when they are together, and touch is their preferred mode of communication. Holding hands, embracing, little brushes of fingers and bare feet exchanged in wordless affection—these gestures are universal, and in this case with Lilith, a balm for two hearts.

He also knows the longer he holds Lilith, the more of her body warmth he absorbs and radiates, that by the end of the night he’ll be so warm that he might pass for one of the living. When she leaves it will fade from him slowly, letting him return to his cool porcelain state once more. Should he feed from her, it will last much longer, but Adam knows that’s for a night far in the future.   
For now, this is good.

Lilith touches him. She traces fingers over his face, along the rims of his ears and down his nose. Her thumbs flick over his eyelashes, and feel the soft scrape of his stubble. At her questioning look, Adam answers.

“It grows slowly. I haven’t shaved in a year, maybe two. It would take me fifty for a proper beard.”

“Is that why you don’t trim? You’re afraid of living for a century with a bad haircut?” she teases.

He sighs. “We all have our vanities.” Carefully Adam tugs one of her curls, stretching it out and watching it bounce back. The action amuses him so he does it again, much to Lilith’s annoyance.

“Having fun?” she asks.

“Tremendous,” Adam replies. “Such spring, such recoil . . . this hair of yours is an engineering marvel.”

“It’s a mess and always has been,” Lilith complains. “My mother’s hair, all wires, especially in the rain. I’m always thinking about getting it lopped off.”

“That would be a pity,” Adam tells her. “Are you related to the divine Sarah? You’ve got the same curls.”

“No,” Lilith chuckles. “No tragediennes in my family, just scholars and doctors boiling down to me.”

“An only child?” it makes sense to Adam; Lilith seems quite comfortable living by herself. 

“Yes. I’m the single souvenir of a trip to Tel Aviv, and a surprise to my middle-aged parents who blame it on a full moon and an exceptional bottle of Gilgal Merlot,” Lilith murmurs. “In vino veritas, I suppose.”

Adam chuckles. “Explains the color of your curls as well.”

Lilith rakes her fingers lightly through his hair. “And _this_ heavy thatch?”

“My mother’s legacy. I was her fifth child and third son, last born,” Adam replies. He hasn’t thought of his family in centuries, but even now he can picture his mother’s face easily. “Gwenfrewy, daughter of Rhys Moss. She had coal-black hair turning to silver by the time I made an appearance. That was all I got from her though—the rest of me is all from my father’s side.”

Adam doesn’t add that includes his musical aptitudes and a temperament that runs to melancholy; time enough for Lilith to find those out for herself. He returns the attention instead, nuzzling her cheek and enjoying the scent of her skin. Under the weight of Lilith half-sprawled over him, his body stirs in response as well. 

She notices. “ _Well_.”

“Libido from alpha to omega,” Adam intones in his dead-pan way. “Deeper than hormones, probably imprinted on the cellular level.”

“How can you deal with it if Eve’s halfway around the world?” Lilith blurted, and then blushes; Adam feels the heat radiating from her.

“Most of the time I . . . channel the drive into music, or something creative. Tinkering. And when that doesn’t work . . . I cast my bitter dregs in a glorious fountain with a good application of lubricant.”

He means to make her laugh and she does chuckle, but her eyes are sad. “Cold comfort?”

Adam nods. “Truer than you know. Being as I am doesn’t stop basic needs, and Maslow’s hierarchy applies to me as well as to the living. Fact of existence.”

Impulsively she hugs him a little harder, and that moves him; Adam hugs her back, aware of how much he’s shared with Lilith so far.

It’s been a long time since he’s done anything like this. Eve . . . Eve knows him so well, and his love for her is rich and deep and strong, like the undercurrents of the sea. But this new connection with Lilith is more like the top of the water, sparkling and moving and never the same from moment to moment.

“I would like to kiss you some more,” Lilith murmurs. “Just that. Is it all right?”

The question under the question is of course, _‘can I trust you?’_ and Adam nods, pulling Lilith so that she’s straddling him, able to move freely. “Yes,” he murmurs, and looks at her.

She kisses him, taking her time doing so, lingeringly. Adam feels the sweet haze of sensuality sweeping through him like a drug, making him lose track of time. Lilith is by turns demanding and demure, her kisses intoxicating him. Her tongue is silky, and the puff of her breath against his mouth tickles while at the same time whetting his appetite. Adam works to stay gentle in his responses but he knows there’s a glow in his gaze now, and that that the thrum of her pulse is creating an erotic tickle down his spine, making his hips rock a bit under her.

And beautiful, Lilith _is_ , he thinks. Her dark pupils and wet mouth tinge her with sensuality; bring out the lush beauty she tries to hide under lab coats and gauze masks. She could be a courtesan of ages past, a favorite from some king’s harem with her purrs and wriggles and warm mouth. 

He tries, _tries_ like hell to keep his hands still, but with his concentration so divided, Adam can’t. Eventually he slides one palm around the full curve of her ass, and the other glides to cup a breast before he realizes it. When Lilith squeaks, he freezes, unsure if it’s a good sound or not. 

“You’re . . . feeling me up,” Lilith splutters, clearly trying not to laugh. “I’m getting groped!”

“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not,” Adam admits, his voice thick. He’s horny, he’s hungry and the kissing session has him slightly befuddled.

Lilith looks down at his hand, which is cupping her left breast, the thumb even now rubbing her hardened nipple through the burgundy fabric. “You’ve got big hands.”

“You’ve got a great set of _bronnau,_ ” Adam replies, fighting not to lick his lips. “We _Cymry_ know a good set of rolling hills when we see them.”

This makes her laugh, and she reluctantly peels his hand away, kissing it to let him know she’s not offended. “It’s getting early and you need to drink.”

Adam knows she’s right, but he doesn’t want her to get up off of him, doesn’t want to stop this lovely intimate snogging. Lilith bends to kiss him a last time and shifts off of him slowly, trying to brush her curls into place and not succeeding. Adam gives a disappointed groan, doing his best to ignore his erection as he swings his feet off the sofa end to the floor.

“You could drink here, if you wanted to,” Lilith offers in a voice that’s almost shy. “Before you go.”

Adam looks up at her for a long moment before shaking his head. “Thank you but . . . no. It’s . . . not something I’d feel comfortable doing here.”

Lilith is disappointed but tries to look understanding. “Ah. Messy?”

“No,” Adam rises up and rubs his mouth. “No, just . . . someday I’ll show you how it’s done, but not tonight, my Lilith.”

She gives him a nod and he manages a twisted smile, feeling awkward. To have Lilith see him roll back in climactic bliss after a shot of the good stuff, looking like a shark after a jaw-full of meat, or an opium addict after the first draw on a pipe . . . it’s not something he’s quite willing to share. She’s come a long way, but still—that moment will take some time.

Lilith looks a little hurt, so carefully Adam cups her face, tipping it up so he can hold her gaze. “It’s frightening to look at if you’re not familiar with it—not dangerous, but strange. I don’t want you to be . . . unprepared for it.”

She looks as if she wants to ask questions, but stops herself; something Adam is both grateful and pleased about. “Okay.”

Lightly he kisses her nose, and follows her into the kitchen where his satchel sits, and he unpacks the empty flasks. Lilith walks him to the door, looking sweetly rumpled and tempting as she sees him out. The goodbye kiss is deliciously long, and Adam growls at her when they break apart. “Now a week is going to seem like a year.”

“Use it wisely then. And I’d like to get out of the house next Friday,” she tells him.

“I could bring you to my place,” Adam offers. At her dubious look he adds, “I might even clean it a bit.”

“Only if you at least wipe down a few surfaces,” Lilith pleads. “Then it’s a date.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “I knew the demands were coming. All right.”

But he’s smiling as he leaves, and he hums a little on the drive home.


	10. Chapter 10

When Adam picks her up, Lilith has two shopping bags with her. Adam is curious, but she refuses to reveal the contents until they’re back at his place. There, she begins to unpack the first one with great ceremony, making him frown as he recognizes the tools coming out.

“We have limited hours to spend with each other, and you want to _clean_?” he asks, his voice just a shade under petulant. 

“If you’d spent time doing it earlier this week then we wouldn’t have to blow part of our time doing it _now_ ,” Lilith points out in a maddeningly calm voice. “ _You_ may be immortal but I’m not, and I’m not going to risk allergies or hanta virus or infections while I’m here. Suck it up, Buttercup.”

Adam stares at her, torn between being amused and annoyed; it’s been a long time since he was susceptible to illness and even though he doesn’t like it much, her reasoning is sound. She tosses him a dust rag and he lets it fall on his shoulder without looking at it. “Fine,” he growls, “but I insist on a time limit.”

Surprisingly, Lilith agrees to this setting an hour as their goal. She busies herself with getting rid of cobwebs while Adam dusts in her wake, muttering under his breath as he does so. They make a fair amount of progress, and after a while Lilith unpacks the second bag, pulling out a device that she sets on the floor. At the press of a button it chirps and begins to roll across the carpet; Adam watches it in fascination.

“Roomba,” she tells him. 

He immediately understands the robot’s purpose and flashes a quick smile. “Technology that doesn’t take itself too seriously. Brilliant.”

Before the hour is up Lilith loads three trashbags into the trunk of her car. Adam notes that while the clutter in the living room is still evident, it seems less . . . depressing. Wood gleams, and photo frames sparkle. On the floor, the machine is now limping and slowing down, so Adam picks it up and flips it over to study its belly; it burbles indignantly for a second.

Lilith joins him as he sets it on the coffee table. “Ugh, clogged up. Let me show you how to clean it.” With all the precision of a surgeon, she demonstrates how to empty the dust compartment and clear the brushes of hair and other effluvia. Adam watches carefully, a bit chagrined at exactly how much debris the device has picked up.

“All right,” he concedes, “perhaps this place _was_ due for a bit of a tidy.”

Lilith says nothing, but smiles at him and sets the robot down again; it circles the coffee table importantly, and trundles off to find more dust bunnies to eat. She curls up against Adam’s side, sighing and he wraps one long arm around her shoulders, appreciating the contact.

Housekeeping, Adam thinks. He tries to remember the last time he shared a home with Eve. Sometime half a century back, in San Francisco, he recalls, when everyone in the city was young and free and full of change.

“All right, we’re done . . . at least with the dust,” Lilith sighs. “Is this okay?”

He nods. “Yes. I have to ask, though—are you _always_ going to be so . . . fastidious?”

Lilith laughs against his shoulder. “I work in a sterile environment; I’ve been trained for the last fifteen years to avoid contamination and promote cleanliness . . . I think you know the answer already, my bubelah.”

He harrumphs on general principal, but Lilith feels warm against his side and the sense of accomplishment makes him a little proud. “All right, all right, I suppose it was an idiotic question to begin with. Still . . . things do look better. A _little_ better,” he amends, lest she get ideas.

“Yes,” she agrees and snuggles against him, content. They sit that way for a while, enjoying companionship and not in a rush to fill the space with words just yet. It’s something Adam appreciates about Lilith; unlike other zombies he’s known, she can handle silence.

Gradually though, they both shift and Lilith gives him an appraising look that Adam knows is more professional interest than personal. He sighs. “You want to examine me, don’t you?”

Lilith bites her lips and nods.

“All right,” he mutters. “I suppose like the house, I’m ready for a thorough going over, and I know you’ve been dying for the opportunity.”

“You have no idea how long,” she tells him, putting enough suggestiveness in her voice to make him smirk. 

Adam strips without the least bit of self-consciousness; one of the legacies of living as long as he has is the complete acceptance of his body now. He tosses his clothes onto the sofa and turns, looking at Lilith who is blushing so strongly he can feel the heat radiating off of her. She is trying _very_ hard to keep her eyes up, but it seems to be a challenge, and Adam doesn’t help by shifting his weight to one hip, posing like the statue of David out of sheer tease. “Here I am,” he purrs with deliberation.

“How do you even shlep that thing around?” Lilith murmurs, and adds, “Sha, okay, let’s start with your teeth, nudnik.”

To her credit, Lilith maintains a degree of professionalism that Adam respects; he holds still as she looks him over, muttering to herself the entire time about his eyes, his ears, his teeth and his tongue. Out of habit she reaches for his wrist to take a pulse and stops as he chuckles softly.

“Nothing there I’m afraid,” he reminds her. “Not even a tracery of veins.”

Lilith nods and checks his reflexes, which respond normally. When she makes him lift an arm and sniffs his pit, Adam arches an eyebrow at her. “What are you doing?”

“Checking for sweat or traces of apocrine secretion,” she replies. “Damn, I wish I’d brought swabs.”

Adam grumbles a bit, but Lilith smiles and keeps going. By the time she reaches his navel, parts lower than that have begun to take an interest, and his semi-erection rises higher. Lilith circles warm fingers around it, making Adam groan a little.

“Now see _here_ you’ve got veins,” she points out, although her voice is slower and less professional. “Although this is the palest putz I’ve ever seen.”

Adam slips an arm around her, feeling light-headed now. The erotic intimacy of being naked is something he already enjoys, and to have Lilith stroking him feels even nicer. “You’ve got a . . . _lovely_ grip,” he manages, feeling himself stiffening even more.

She laughs, and caresses him ever more deliberately, her other hand coming up to cup his balls, toying with them. “You’ve got something worth gripping.”

Adam can only groan again because her touch is so good. Lilith’s hand is warm and smooth; he rocks forward, letting his prick slide in her grip a few times out of sheer pleasure.

“Lube,” she murmurs. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

What she says makes sense, but Adam doesn’t want to give up the immediate sensation, so he growls a little as she pulls her hand away.

“Where is it?” she wants to know, and he waves towards the stairs. When Lilith returns moments later, Adam looks up guiltily from caressing himself. She snorts. “Couldn’t wait?”

He says nothing, knowing he would be blushing if he could. Fortunately Lilith merely guides him back to the sofa, knees wide and coats her palms with the gel. “Let’s see if I still know what I’m doing,” she mutters as she sits on the coffee table, and wraps her fingers around his turgid length once more.

Adam gasps, his head going back as Lilith slides her hands in slick twists around his cock. She varies her stroke, her speed, her intensity, toying with him for a while before settling into a deliberate rhythm. The sensations make him shudder, send sparkles of pleasure spiking through him, and he knows, _knows_ that within minutes he’s going to climax, hard.

“Lilith, Liliiith . . .” Adam groans, his hands curling into fists now, his hips rocking in counter rhythm to her clever, sensual stroking, “So close . . .”

Her eyes are dark and lovely; she licks her lips as she smiles. “So do it. _Come_ for me, ziseh neshomeh!” Lilith whispers.

He does. Adam arches back as the sweet pinpoint rush of intense pleasure flares through his prick, tensing his body and making white stars flash behind his closed eyelids. Three hard thrusts and he’s weightless now, the wash of bliss leaving him breathless and slack against the cushions under him . . .

_Magnificent_ , Adam thinks when he can think again. _Magnificent._ He feels the limp weight of his cock against his thigh, and opens his eyes. 

Lilith leans over him, laughing softly. “I think I _just_ figured out why your place is so messy.”

He glances up at the splatters that drip from the overhead light. “Shoot for the moon, they always told me.”

Lilith laughs again.


	11. Chapter 11

Of course Adam offers to return the favor; he wants to return the favor very much so, but Lilith shakes her head and tells him maybe in a little while, she’s good.

And that’s fine too. They snuggle on the sofa, Adam nude and Lilith clothed, simply comfortable in the moment, which turns into an hour or so of holding and being held. Adam dozes a bit, waking every few minutes to enjoy the weight of her, the scent of her skin and texture of her hair.

“You feel nice,” he tells Lilith, who looks at him, bright-eyed.

“So do you,” she replies. “And your scent is different. There sort of is one now . . . it’s good,” Lilith reassures him. “Masculine.”

“Release of pheromones,” Adam murmurs. “I suppose.”

Then she gets a look in her eyes, and he feels slightly annoyed because he knows the scientist within her is considering what he’s just said, which isn’t very sensual. Adam wants things to stay sensual. He needs them to stay sensual.

“Maybe,” is all Lilith replies though, and kisses him. “So, what’s your refractory period?”

He says nothing and lets another part of him respond to the question. Lilith says nothing but her mouth is twisting up in a way that tells Adam she’s about two seconds from bursting out laughing, which is precisely what he wants.

It’s easy to pull her up and roll a bit, pinning her against the back of the sofa, and from there, it’s even easier to slide his hands up under her shirt and bra. Lilith squeaks a little at his speed, but as his fingers dance over her skin, it shifts to a sigh. “Your fingers are cool. Talented, but cool.”

“Shhh,” Adam tells her with a gentle smile. “They’ll warm up.”

He shifts so that Lilith is cradled between him and the back of the sofa, snug but not trapped. She wriggles a little, and looks up into his face, her eyes dark now. “Ticklish.”

“Good,” he responds, “I’ll be even _more_ gentle.”

It’s not a threat, but Lilith gives a slightly strangled moan as she squirms, and the sweet nubbly points of her nipples harden under his touch. Adam pushes her shirt up and gazes at her bared chest, giving a hum of deep appreciation. He has no size preference when it comes to breasts, but the artist in him is willing to acknowledge that Lilith does _indeed_ have an aesthetically pleasing rack.

“Oh glorious abundance; charming twins,” he intones, “Man’s sweetest, most delectable pillows.”

Lilith laughs, which of course makes her chest bounce. Adam drops his face to lightly scrape them with his faint beard, gratified when he hears her giggles shift into a little moan. 

He takes his time, which is by turns infuriating and thrilling to Lilith, who keeps up a litany of threats and imperious demands between moans. Adam manages to kiss, lick and nibble the acreage between her throat and ribs, moving in ever smaller circles around each quivering breast to zero in on her ruckered nipples. They seem to be highly sensitive; so much so that Lilith is nearly gasping now.

“Oh, you’re devious!” she hisses.

“ _And_ good,” Adam reminds her impishly.

“And a damned _tease_ ,” Lilith huffs, her arms wrapping around him to pull him closer. Adam rests on her supine form, keeping most of his weight off of her with his arms. He’s glad he’s kept this sofa; Victorian monstrosity that it is, it’s wide enough for sensual games of this sort. Adam almost prefers it to the bed.

Almost.

It’s doubly sensual to be the naked one, he realizes, his body rubbing over hers, feeling the heat rising through her clothing—what’s left of it on her that is—and Adam presses his hips down against her, growling a little, thoroughly enjoying himself. “Nature of the beast, I’m afraid.”

Lilith calls him a rude name, and just for that, he slips a hand under her ass and scoots her up, leaving her with her back against the low arm of the sofa and her legs sprawled under him. It’s easy to flip her skirt up and hook fingers into the waistband of her tights; a tug and they’re down to her knees along with her panties.

“What have we here?” he purrs playfully, his hair falling into his eyes, “a worthy lap to die in, I see.”

And it _is,_ Adam thinks through his haze of lust. The thick tangle of springy curls between her thighs is darker than the ones on Lilith’s head, but far more tantalizing.

She drops a hand over her mound in light protest, but the corners of her mouth are curling up. “Shakespeare?”

“I have it on good authority he played both sides of the fence in his day,” Adam murmurs, curling down to stroke the insides of her thighs with his fingertips, “or so Eve tells me.”

He sees that Lilith is caught between wanting to ask more, and wanting something else, so Adam makes the choice for her and presses a kiss to the inside of one knee. 

She wriggles. “Ohhhh . . .”

It’s a lovely sound, this sigh of delight, and Adam takes his time once more, exploring the smooth, sweet skin along the inside of Lilith’s thighs. She parts them willingly, limited only by the tights at her knees, but Adam rather enjoys her dilemma, and drags a tongue along the sweet crease between mound and inner thigh, repeating the action on the other side. Lilith wriggles again, this time a bit more desperately.

“Adam . . .” she manages in a low, hungry voice, “You’re making me crazy here.”

“I know,” he assures her, nuzzling now into the springy thatch over her vulva. “If it helps, I’m going a bit insane myself.”

And he his, gloriously so. He’s always had a strong drive, one Adam generally channels into music but with Lilith under him, the perfume of her sexuality in bloom, the heat rising from her shifting hips; it’s enough to bring him back to full stand again. Still, he knows full well that it’s her pleasure that’s due, so with careful clever fingers, Adam brushes apart the curls to uncover the glistening seam of her sex, smiling as he does so.

“ _Gard hyfryd,_ ” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs along the edges, parting them slightly. The heated pink assures him Lilith is highly aroused now, as does the press of her hand against his shoulder. “I should like to kiss you . . .”

“Yessss,” Lilith hisses, her voice tight. “Driving me _crazy_ here!”

He does, slowly, rubbing his lips along the seam, letting his tongue slide through the warm syrup of her arousal. Lilith tastes of honey and salt and peaches; flavors Adam hasn’t tasted in centuries. Another rush of desire makes him groan and he licks her eagerly, pressing her knees apart.

Adam wants it to last but it’s been too long for Lilith, who gasps when his tongue begins to nudge up against the hard little bud of her clitoris. She gives a fluttery cry and arches her hips up against him; he feels the pulse of her climax against his lips as he suckles on that stiff button for a long moment, feeling her pleasure rush through him like an ocean wave.

She goes limp a few moments later, and he pulls back, aware of how sensitive her skin will be now to any scrape or touch. With care Adam slides up the length of her body to cover Lilith, and it’s only when he lifts his face to hers that he becomes aware of her tears that are rolling down her face, spilling from her closed eyes.

He pauses, feeling panic. Was there pain? Did he do something wrong? Is this the backlash of regret for what has passed between them? A thousand worries flash through his mind, and Adam isn’t sure what to say, what to ask.

Lilith opens her eyes and sees him.

“Di eshter . . . the first time . . . in years,” she manages wetly, smiling. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get so . . . emotional. You were fabulous!”

Adam bends to kiss the trickle under one of her eyes, tasting the salt of her tear. “Lilith Schatten, you are . . . such a gift,” he murmurs, deeply moved. 

She laughs. “When you say it like that . . . I _almost_ believe you.”

*** *** *** 

It’s later, after they’ve shifted from the sofa to the heavy bed upstairs and are entwined under the covers that Lilith tells him about the ragged end of her marriage, and about her lost sex drive.

“I thought . . . well, I thought when people married, you bonded for life. What was I to know? My parents had been together for decades without any sort of trouble or straying, and so when my divorce came through I thought it was the end of any chance I had for . . . .”

“Love. Companionship.” Adam fills in. “Intimacy.”

“Exactly. I redoubled my focus on work, thinking that would help,” Lilith murmurs. “It got me a better salary.”

“Which in turn brought you here, and into my life,” Adam points out, pulling her closer, “Where you are needed.”

She sighs. “Needed. Really?”

He rolls to face her, lifting her chin so she’s looking into his eyes. Adam holds her gaze before he speaks. “Needed _and_ wanted. Eve once told me that there are moments of serendipity that arise out of the random patterns of the universe, and that the longer a being is alive, the more apparent they become. She is _brilliant_ at spotting them. _You_ are the right person in the right place at the right time to do the most good for all three of us, Lilith.”

She keeps staring at him and he can see how much she wants to believe his words.

Adam nods a tiny bit, and pulls Lilith closer when she sighs.

He waits until she’s deeply asleep.

“I love you,” Adam whispers before slipping out of bed to go drink.


	12. Chapter 12

It takes another week before they actually consummate the relationship; Adam enjoys the delay, more than thrilled by the extended foreplay, and Lilith is pre-occupied with all the details she’s learning about Adam and by extension all of his kind.

“Your hair is amazing,” she burbles to him. “The cuticle along the shaft has almost no scaling to it; it’s almost like yak down. Was it always this straight?”

“No,” Adam remembers. “I had curlier hair before I became as I am.”

She is typing on her laptop, compiling notes, apparently while Adam prowls around her kitchen, pulling out condiments and studying the labels before re-shelving them. When Lilith glances over and catches him, she smirks.

“Looking for something to flavor your meal?”

“No, just curious,” Adam admits. “Such exotic spices . . . it cost a fortune for simple black pepper in my day.”

“And now it’s a dollar twenty at every corner market,” Lilith shrugs. “Still—have you ever added anything to your . . . drink?”

Adam thinks back. “Not on purpose,” he muses. “Sometimes a . . . donor would be drunk, which added a hint alcohol to the proceedings.”

She looks at him, amused. Intrigued. “You should try a hint of something added directly. Vanilla maybe, or red pepper.”

“Contamination? I don’t think so,” Adam replies. “Dangerous enough to obtain pure stuff as it is.”

Lilith shrugs. “Up to you. So when are you going to let me watch?”

Adam leans on the counter, giving her one of his intense gazes. Lilith holds it, and he sees more doctor than lover in her eyes; finds himself aroused by her keen curiosity and fearlessness.

“You think you’re ready to see this? Even before we shtup, officially?”

“Yes,” Lilith murmurs, her gaze softening slightly. “I think I’ve earned the trust, nu?”

Adam sighs. “All right.”

Minutes later he holds an aperitif glass up, gazing over the top of it at Lilith, who is watching both it and him raptly. Adam carries it over to the kitchen table and seats himself opposite her, aware that she has a notepad and pen out. 

“Is that all you need?” Lilith wants to know.

“Five to six ounces a feeding. Three times a night, when possible,” Adam points out. “I could gorge myself on one big meal but it’s extremely undignified and messy, and since a steady blood supply is not always available, I’ve learned to make do.”

Eve’s influence, Adam knows. She has been the one to teach moderation and ritual; to model the virtues of sufficiency over gluttony. 

Too bad not everyone addicted to the good stuff lives long enough to understand that, he thinks to himself. 

Cold? Heated? Room temperature?”

“I prefer room temperature or a little warmer,” He confesses. “Although heating it isn’t always possible.”

Lilith nods, making a note. “And does it have to be O negative?”

“No.” Adam tells her. “But O is the most common and easiest to obtain.”

“Ah. Well,” Lilith waves for him to drink, “l’chaim.”

Adam twirls the glass stem between his fingers. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he adds, and downs the precious ounces, letting the liquid joy stream down his throat.

He tilts his head back sighing with pleasure as every part of his body responds to the nourishment. Adam knows his fangs are out and bloodied, that his expression is a rictus of delight, but he cannot stop himself from responding like the monster he is for the next few minutes. 

When he finally leans forward again, Adam expects to find Lilith cringing, or at the very least looking a little wary. Instead, she’s grinning at him, eyes bright with amusement. “Wow, so _that’s_ your O face . . . on more than one level.”

“My what?” he asks, running a tongue along his bottom lip.

“Your expression during orgasm,” Lilith chuckles. “Very . . . erotic. Almost makes _me_ want a sip.”

Adam sets the glass down, staring at it. “You’re not terrified? With the fangs and all?”

Lilith slips out of her chair and comes closer, bending to look at his mouth. Self-consciously Adam closes his mouth, but she grips his chin, using her thumb to pull his lower lip down. “Oh stop. I want to see them.”

With a noisy sigh Adam opens his mouth and pulls back his lips; Lilith bends closer still, examining him like a dentist would.  
“Canines are prominent but they seem to be receding . . .”

Adam knows that over the centuries he’s done a lot of damage with his fangs, that he’s opened more flesh with them than he cares to remember. Eve called them the necessary evil of their condition, and while hers look almost dainty, his own definitely give him a feral look when they’re out.

“Well it’s clear you brush,” Lilith observes, checking his lower jaw as well before kissing his lip and pulling back. “Not even a lingering hint of a smell. It’s absorbed that quickly?”

“Yes,” he tells her, feeling a little awkward and a little aroused now. “One of the reasons spills are . . . rare.”

“And does it hit the spot? Quench the appetite?” Lilith asks.

“For the next six to eight hours, yes. Eve gets by on even less, actually.”

“What happens if you take in more? Do you swell up like a tick?”

Adam shakes his head at her look of mirth. “No. If we drink more, we’re . . . stronger. Faster. But it gets absorbed just the same. Eve and I have learned that moderation is the most prudent course of action, and believe me we’ve learned it the hard way.”

Memories rise inside him, of travelling deserts and ships; of being forced to subsist on the tiniest cuts and nicks inflicted on fellow travelers in the dead of their sleep; working hard not to be caught or noticed. 

Hard times.

Adam feels Lilith take his hand and her touch pulls him back to the present. “I’m sorry,” she tells him.

“It’s . . . the nature of the condition,” he murmurs back. “The way things are.”

“What about animal blood?” she asks.

“Incompatible,” Adam assures her. “I was violently ill for a week after a few sips of rat’s blood. Believe me, our existence would be much simpler if all we had to do was keep cattle or fishponds.”

“I suspected as much,” Lilith nods. “Which also means you’re also dependent on the human population. Must have been a struggle at times.”

Adam nods back. It’s odd to share this truth with a zombie, but he’s stopped thinking of Lilith that way. She’s above the rabble of humanity now, even though she herself is still flesh and blood. “It still is.”

Her fingers interlace with his, and the warmth of her touch comforts him.

“Do you ever want to be . . . ?” Adam lets the question trail off. Lilith gives him a piercing look, her expression troubled.

“I’ve thought about it; I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t,” she admits. “The thought of extending my lifespan well beyond the allotted years does have an appeal, you know. But the drawbacks . . . how did you end up choosing it give up daylight and normal food?”

“Oh I didn’t _have_ a choice,” Adam tells her. “The only choice I made was to keep existing once I understood my circumstances.” He tries not to let the ancient bitterness tinge his words but by her look it’s still there in his tone. “Eve chose, but in her case it was to escape atrocities; ask her sometime and she’ll tell you about it.”

He shakes his head at Lilith’s expression. “I’ll tell you about myself someday, but not now. It’s not a pleasant bedtime story.”

“All right,” Lilith agrees. She watches him for a moment, brushing his bangs out of his eyes in a gentle caress. Adam accepts it, leans into it with a little sigh. 

“It’s not _always_ a lonely existence you know. For those of us with a natural bent to a solitary life it can be quite fulfilling at times. I’ve mastered countless skills, and been free to follow my interests, free to mentor a few brilliant minds over the centuries.”

“Mmmm,” she replies, not entirely convinced.

Adam continues, “I’m not trying to persuade you, you know. Eve would do a better job at that. I’m just saying it’s not as . . . bleak as it looks on paper.”

“Maybe not,” Lilith concedes, “but it’s not an issue I’m overly preoccupied with at the moment. What do you feel like doing tonight?”

He looks up at her and gives a crooked smile. “Have you ever walked around the old Michigan theatre?”

***

They’re heading back, driving down the street and nearly back to his place when Adam spots the cars. Instinctively he turns on a cross street at the corner of the block, cursing under his breath. Lilith shoots him a concerned look. “What’s wrong?”

“Groupies,” he growls. “Fans.”

“Oh,” Lilith murmurs. “They found you?”

“Sometimes they do,” Adam grumbles. “We can go in around the back the house but it’s a colossal pain in the ass to wait them out. Ian was _supposed_ to get rid of them.” 

Lilith shrugs. “Let _me_ go in the front.”

Adam shoots her a look. “They’ll ask you about me.”

“And I can tell them to get lost; that I don’t know who the hell they’re talking about and that I’ll call the cops,” Lilith counters. “If they see me pull out my cell phone and unlock the door they sure as hell won’t come peeking in the windows.”

It works. Lilith grouses at the sheepish teens, who pile back into their primer-spotted Chargers and rumble away down the street. Ian waits ten minutes and brings the car in, careful to park it back in the undergrowth before climbing out and heading into the house. He passes Lilith and goes to the window, peering through the heavy drapes, looking for any sign of life.

There aren’t any now, but he still feels unsettled. Adam turns to see Lilith standing in the living room. She looks . . . pensive.

“I should go,” she murmurs. “You’re uncomfortable; I can feel it.”

Adam tries to deny it but the words stick in his throat. He IS uncomfortable. Close. Too close. He’s lost havens and bolt holes before and it’s always been unnerving. Every night has the potential to be the last comfortable night, the first night of homelessness.

There is no certainty in this life.

“Stay,” he asks softly. “Please.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and reviews; I am so grateful for the feedback!

She stays over.

Adam remembers going to sleep with Lilith wrapped around him, remembers thinking that when he wakes up they’ll finally make love properly: consummating their passions in a bed, deepening the intimacy that’s grown between them. That it will be gloriously romantic because at heart that’s what he is. Eve’s often accused him of having the soul of a poet since it’s composed of equal amounts of melancholy, lust, and passion.

But when he wakes, he’s the only one in the bed. Despondent, Adam lies there a moment, wondering when Lilith left. As he rolls over, he hears footsteps, though, and the bedroom door opening. She glides in, and when she sees he’s awake, Lilith shoots him a twisted grin. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Adam purrs, and pats the mattress. “I’ve been missing you.”

She gives a shy laugh and sits next to him, looking delicious in his dressing gown and nothing else. “You really do sleep like the dead when you’re out, you know that?”

“I’m awake _now,_ ” Adam reminds her, sitting up and nuzzling along her shoulder. “Have you been cleaning again?”

“No,” Lilith lies, and recants it a moment later. “A little. Mostly I’ve been writing and puttering. I, ah, called Eve, around one this afternoon. We talked for a while.”

Adam looks at her. “Yes?” He’s dying to know what they discussed, but isn’t sure how to ask. 

Lilith brushes a strand of hair from her eyes and smirks. “She wants me to come and visit.”

A tinge of alarm mingled with envy runs through him. “Oh really?”

“Yes. I can’t at the moment, but there’s a possibility in the future. We _both_ could go in fact,” Lilith tells him, and begins to slip the shirt off. Adam is torn between asking more and watching her strip, a dilemma that resolves itself when Lilith kisses him.

“Nudity is a good look for you,” Adam announces. “I recommend it around me often.”

“For a dead man, you have a hyperactive libido, you know that?”

“I prefer to think of it as ‘kinetically attuned to current stimuli,’ thank you very much,” he replies, and pulls her down to the mattress, kissing her from the corner of her laughing mouth to just under her ear. She returns the lip service and they settle into a long session of kissing that becomes more intense.

Adam breathes her, tastes her, and his hungers mingle. The blood just under the surface of her skin sings to him as Lilith blushes, calls to him to sip it even as his body desires hers. He wishes he could nip her and take one little taste . . . Even as he _thinks_ it, his fangs lengthen a fraction and he pulls his face away.

“No,” he sighs, “I can’t.”

Lilith looks up at him, her expression confused, then slightly hurt. “What?”

“I’m . . . hungry,” Adam growls. “And you’re tempting more than just my prick right now. I don’t want to hurt you, so I should go drink before we . . .”

Lilith gives a sigh. “Yeah . . . .” There is disappointment in her tone, and Adam feels a flare of anger at the sound of it. Anger at her for not understanding how difficult it is to pull away; anger at himself for needing to. 

“I shouldn’t have started this, not before feeding,” he confesses and pushes himself up and off of her lovely body, stalking out of the room and downstairs, not waiting to hear if Lilith has anything further to say.

He pulls out the flask and pours what he needs, feeling resentment anew at the sight of the scarlet liquid. It’s cost him time and again, this good stuff, and at the moment Adam feels the bitterness burn within him.

Not by choice, he reminds himself. He never chose this life. Never got to consider any options about this fucked up existence, and how he’s caught up in the continuing cycle of dependence on these precious ounces. Adam gulps the drink down, bracing one hand on the counter as the dizzying delight rushes through him.

Still not completely reconciled to this, he acknowledges. Adam knows he can go for decades and not think about the inner scar of resentment within him. Then something like Lilith will cut it open again and it festers, spilling that old black bile through him. It stains his music and days . . . 

Arms slip around him from behind, holding him firmly, and the unexpected comfort pushes a little moan from his throat. Adam sets the glass down and lets his hand slide over Lilith’s arm as it curves around his ribs protectively.

“This is _how_ it is,” he mutters, his voice pained. “The good stuff has to come first, Lilith, every time. Because I can’t risk hurting you.”

“I know,” comes her murmur over his shoulder as she rests her cheek against his shoulder blade. “It’s a . . . prophylactic measure and I get it, Adam. It’s all right.”

“ _Is_ it?” Adam sulks, but Lilith’s hug slides down his waist, and her hands shift to caress him. Even while his thoughts are melancholy, the rest of him is already starting to respond to her teasing touch.

“Yep,” Lilith tells him, her tone light and playful. “Now that you’ve had your first need met, let’s see about the others, bubelah.”

Her talented fingers cup his heavy balls, the other hand splays against the sensitive flesh under his navel; Adam gives a happy groan. “I _may_ let you talk me into it.”

Lilith chuckles and toys with him a bit more, her touch both arousing and comforting. Adam allows himself a moment to enjoy her caresses before turning in her arms and pulling her close.

“All right, I am indebted to you for so very much, Doctor Schatten, and would like to take you back upstairs and shtup you until we are both comatose.”

Lilith looks up at him, her gaze forthright. “You sweet-talker, you.”

*** *** *** 

It’s easy to give in; Lilith leads, kissing him, pinning him down playfully and straddling him on the mattress as she licks his throat and nibbles his collarbones. Adam glories in the feel of her warm weight, across his hips, and his cock throbs.

Lilith guides his hands to her breasts and Adam fills his palms, pleased when she leans forward to kiss him as well. This sort of sweet and joyous foreplay is precisely what they both need, he thinks. Easy, gentle, tender. Adam plays with her curls, brushes his tongue against her nipples, lets himself breathe in the perfume of her living body so pliant in his hands.

The loveliest part of letting Lilith take him is when she does. By the time they’re both breathless and on the edge she rises up on her knees and grasps his prick, presses the head against her slick cleft and impales herself on it. Adam groans, his hands gripping her ass, pulling her onto him. Lilith is as hot as a furnace, as slick as wet porcelain and he rocks up into her, matching her rhythm, mindlessly driven in the hot pleasure between them. 

She braces her hands on the mattress above his shoulders, her bouncy curls shaking all around his face, and Adam kisses her hard, lets his tongue stroke hers as their pace increases and the mattress creaks. Hot breath against his lips and Lilith’s knees tightening around his hips . . . He gasps. That glorious moment before coming Adam feels _human_ again, connected to her not just through flesh and fluid and fever but also through fate.

He cries out as the sullen surges of his climax pulse deep within Lilith, and Adam pulls her close when she begins to shake as well a moment later.

They stay entwined for a while. Adam strokes her back as she dozes on him, feels the trickles leaking down the insides of her thighs and against his pubic fur. Cool seed mingled with warm slickage; where the living meets the dead, he thinks, and for one private moment he wonders what it would be like to conceive a child.

He will never know; if Lilith stays with him, she won’t either.

Pushing this melancholy thought aside, Adam rests his cheek against hers and hums a tune he’s been working on for a while. It’s in a minor key, slow and sweet as it rumbles up from his chest. A moment later, Lilith stirs and smiles at him.

“That was . . . wonderful,” she tells him, and to tease she adds, “The shtup was pretty good too.”

“Ha-ha,” Adam retorts, but he’s smiling, and kisses her nose. “Thank you for a glorious consummation. I am moved beyond words.”

Lilith blushes. “Thank you. I think . . . I think I could use a shower or a bath, though.”

They make it through the awkward unsticking of their bodies; Adam is amused at how _this_ part of lovemaking is always skipped over by poets and musicians. Still, he makes light of it, and leads Lilith to the tub in the bathroom. It’s tricky to settle them both into it—he is, after all much longer than she is—but once in, the warm water soothes them both. Lilith settles in comfortably opposite him and lathers up the soap in her hands.

“You’re _obsessed_ with cleanliness,” Adam teases. He leans back and watches her soap her arms. “It’s not natural.”

“Forgive me if I’m not thrilled with the dust of the centuries around here,” Lilith sighs. “And may I remind you I’m a doctor? I’m in the _business_ of cleanliness.”

“You need to let go a bit,” Adam flicks water at her.

“Zikher nisht,” Lilith tells him. “Uh . . . by the way . . . where are your towels?”

Adam winces.


	14. Chapter 14

Within a month, the house has towels and soaps and a space heater. Adam accepts these as necessary, and is secretly pleased that Lilith insists on his input regarding them.

In turn she gives him space at _her_ home as well and there he discovers the joy of memory foam mattresses, Netflix, and iPads. He’s always known about the latter yet unlike Eve, who enjoys playing with the latest bit of technology, Adam is more cautious in what he chooses to use. But the damned thing is _so_ convenient, and before winter is over Lilith has bought him his own, complete with a black snakeskin leather case.

“I don’t actually _need_ this,” Adam murmurs, already lost in the app that lets him create hang drum melodies.

“I know, I know, but I like to keep you busy when I’m not jumping your bones,” Lilith tells him. “Consider it one of the perks of being a stud.”

“Give me half an hour and I’ll earn my keep,” he tells her silkily, adding, “Eve and I invested in this company, you know. It’s part of our joint portfolio.”

“Yes?”

And he explains to her how he and Eve have a significant number of investments and accounts in major banks all over the world, how they’ve been careful to establish family trusts to keep their assets safe and available. It’s a goodly chunk of money they hold, both jointly and separately.

“The internet’s been a Godsend; we no longer have to go in person to sign documents and verify identities,” Adam admits. “Arranging night appointments used to be risky.”

“I bet,” Lilith murmurs, a little stunned by this new information. “So did you guys ever invest in biotech? Medical research? Blood banks?”

“Two _small_ companies,” Adam tells her. “Our funds manager wasn’t supportive of the field and neither of us knew enough to know if he was right or not.”

Lilith shakes her head. “Oy. Okay, if you’ll let me look into it, I think—it’s not a given, but I _think_ —we might even be able to work out a legitimate, continual source of blood for you two. A legal one.”

Adam is silent a moment, thinking of the ramifications of that. Since the arrival of Lilith in his existence, his anxiety has gone down, his depression has lessened. Part of it has been the companionship, yes, but part of it is the lack of stress over procuring the good stuff. He knows it’s made things easier on him. He knows it would do the same for Eve.

“You’re serious,” he murmurs, just to be sure.

“I can try,” Lilith tells him, “but I can’t promise.”

He looks at her. “Good enough for me.”

*** *** *** 

They’ve begun experimenting. Adam is a reluctant guinea pig, but agrees to it with the understanding that anything gained will be to his and Eve’s benefit. Lilith chides him about being a picky eater.

“It’s O positive; your favorite!”

“O and what else?” Adam demands, looking at the glass critically. 

“Well, just O, but _first_ I want you to drink this,” Lilith holds up another glass of something that’s tinted with orange. 

He makes a face. “It’s plasma, isn’t it?”

“Not straight plasma,” she assures him. “It’s got a five percent addition of red cells to it. Just . . . give it a try.”

He sighs dramatically to get a rise out of her, and downs it. A tiny hit; nothing significant at all, but enough to make him nod a few moments later. “Like watered wine,” Adam tells her. “I’d give it thirty minutes, tops as a feeding.”

Lilith types something on her laptop, nodding. “Okay, that’s up from ten minutes for the straight plasma. Any other side effects, symptoms?”

Adam manages a shrug. “Not much taste.”

She types a bit more and finally pushes herself away from the computer, coming over to him and picking up the little glass of O. “All right then, go for it.”

Adam drinks this offering down, grateful he doesn’t have electrodes hooked up to his skin this time. The ounces are hot and sweet; without the tang of preservatives, and he groans with pleasure because there’s something painfully, deliciously good in this dose, something . . . personal.

When he rolls his head forward, his gaze moves to the crook of Lilith’s elbow, and Adam spots the bandage there, just peeking out from her pushed-up sleeve.

“Oh fy cariad . . .” he sighs, “Damn it that’s good. You shouldn’t have _done_ it, my love.”

“So it’s all right?” Lilith wants to know, her gaze both shy and hopeful.

Adam reaches up, catches her chin and pulls her fact to his all while gazing deeply in Lilith’s eyes. “Magnificent. I haven’t had anything straight from the vein in nearly fifty-two years, Lilith Ayelet. No wonder you’re such a temptress.”

“Flatterer,” but she’s smiling. “So if worst ever came to worst, God forbid, I could probably keep you alive for a week with small feedings if we had to go that route.”

“God forbid,” Adam echoes, even as he savors the last taste of her blood in his mouth. “Lilith . . .”

She looks at him, and he cups her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her warm cheeks. 

“Never fear me,” he tells her, “Please.”

He watches as a strange expression crosses her face; a look of infinite patience blended with the exotic sensuality Adam has come to appreciate in Lilith. “I never _have_ , you adorable schmuck.”

Adam laughs, and kisses her.

*** *** *** 

There are ups and downs in the next three months as they begin to settle into the relationship. Lilith has out of town trips to conferences and seminars; Adam understands she needs to attend these but he misses her and worries for her while she’s gone. Not for himself so much; they’ve laid in a fair amount of the good stuff. Lilith has shown him how to manage a FIFO system for the stock, and assures him that frozen blood can last up to ten years now, if stored properly.

He’s come to rely less and less on Ian, which also has its ups and downs. Ian keeps asking if he’s done something wrong or offended Adam, who tells him no, he’s just managing things for himself a little better these days, which seems to be true. 

Certainly Ian’s noticed a change in the décor and dust levels. “Did you get a maid? Not that it was, like bad or anything . . . .”

“No, I just . . .” Adam waves towards the roomba, “Got with the times.”

Ian offers to get a few more, but Adam sends him on a quest for a lithophone instead, hoping it will keep him busy for a few months.

Adam and Lilith have talked seriously about going to Tangiers to see Eve, too. It will take some careful planning of course, but the possibility has a good chance of being a probability if all the details come through.

Everything is going well until the dreams.

“Kit’s dreamt it; _I’ve_ dreamt it darlings. I don’t think she’s coming to see me, so it must be _you_ ,” Eve tells them over the Skype they share. 

“Oh God,” Adam growls, pissed to the core now. “No. No! I won’t have it!”

“What she?” Lilith wants to know. She ignores Adam’s drama and focuses on Eve; something she’s learned to do over time.

Eve looks slightly embarrassed. “It’s my . . . sister, Eva.”

“She’s _barely_ your sister,” Adam announces sourly. “Being from the same . . . bloodline doesn’t make you responsible for her.”

“It’s always a bit weird with family,” Eve assures Lilith. “Eva is young, and not very, um, disciplined about her habits.”

“Paris!” Adam interjects. “I am _still_ pissed about Paris.”

“What happened in Paris?” Lilith wants to know. Adam says nothing as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Eve sighs. “Eva took part in one of the performances of the Grand Guignol and . . . brought down the cast, as it were. We had to leave the City of Lights in rather a hurry about oh, eighty-five years ago.”

“Eighty-seven. I never _did_ get to see Josephine at the Folies Bergère thanks to that brat,” Adam fumes.

“He holds grudges, doesn’t he?” Lilith murmurs to Eve, who nods and manages a twisted smile.

“When it involves music, he certainly does. Just . . . be careful. Maybe Eva’s matured by now, but . . . .”

“. . . but?” Lilith prompts.

“But we both doubt it,” Adam finishes sourly. “Eve, I won’t have your sister put things in jeopardy. I won’t have her put _Lilith_ in jeopardy.”

“No,” Eve agrees quietly, “and she may not show up in Detroit, for that matter. I just . . . have this _feeling_ , and I want you both to be prepared.” She touches her fingers to her lips and presses them to the screen. “Love you, my darlings, oh how I _long_ to see you both. Good night.”

The screen flicks back to the wallpaper of Stratocasters, and Lilith looks at Adam, who is still in a tense and unhappy lump. She sets the laptop down and waits. Long minutes tick by, and finally Adam uncoils himself, looking over at her.

“I _know_ you have a thousand questions and _you_ know I’m rather too aggravated to answer them politely right now,” he admits in a gruff tone. “Would it be all right with you if we just . . .”

Lilith grins and starts searching for cat videos.


	15. Chapter 15

Adam senses the wrongness, the disquiet even before he makes it to the first step of Lilith’s back porch.

He hisses under his breath, and stops for a long moment, wondering what to do. He tries to peer in the window over the kitchen sink, but it’s a little too high, even for him. Jumping would be undignified, but the sense of panic is growing.

Lilith.

He concentrates.

Lilith and _Eva._

Shit!

He darts into Lilith’s house, dropping the satchel as he surges into the kitchen, feeling his fangs lengthen in fury. No one here, so he heads for the living room, stopping at the doorway as he looks in.

“Adam! Hi!” Eva chortles to him from the sofa, her mouth red, and her eyes bright. She holds a black coffee mug with _‘kvetch, kvetch, kvetch’_ printed on it, the crimson contents half gone. In her other hand is a .22.

On the chair across from her, Lilith sits surrounded by empty flasks, a torn throw pillow and other clutter, looking tense and pale. 

“Adam,” she acknowledges in a flat voice.

“Fuck,” he growls, and slides into the room. “Eva, get out. You’re not welcome here.”

“Yes I am,” she boasts. “Your friend invited me in herself a while ago. Of course I had to lie a little about being chased by some abusive a-hole, and pretend to cry and stuff, but hey, I’m here!”

“Get. Out.”

Eva carelessly points the gun at Lilith. “Nah. I don’t think so.”

“Eva!” Adam can’t help himself; the panic in his tone comes through and Eve’s little sister giggles.

“Sheesh, calm down! I’m not going to kill the golden goose yet. She’s been a _great_ hostess, you know?” As if to emphasize the point, Eva slurps another mouthful from the mug. 

Adam looks to Lilith, who is gripping the arms of the chair. “Are you all right?” he asks.

“Been better,” comes the sharp reply. “I think Eve understated things though.”

Adam glares at the unwanted guest. “A tiny bit, yes. Eva, you’ve had your tipple, you’re not getting any more. Time to _go._ ”

She pouts, her mouth a bloody carnation of displeasure. “But I just _got_ here!”

“I don’t care,” Adam informs her, working his way into the room, angling himself so he’s between Lilith and Eva. “You’ve had as much as you’re going to get; leave.”

“You’re so _selfish,_ ” Eva whines, “You really are, Adam. Your friend here has lots and lots of the good stuff and I don’t see why you should hog it all, you know? I deserve it _too._ ”

“You don’t deserve shit, Eva,” Adam barks back. “You haven’t done a damned thing to earn my hospitality OR hers, and as far as I’m concerned you can drag your sorry arse back to whatever cultural wasteland you climbed out of.”

Eva stares up at him, smiling in an unnerving way, and Adam realizes that with the amount of good stuff she’s just had she’s probably a match for him at the moment.

Realizes that _she_ knows it as well and is weighing her odds.

“Tell you what,” Eva tosses her hair back, grinning. “I’ll fight you for her. If you win I’ll go away, tra-la-la and you won’t have to worry about me for oh, a good long time. But if _I_ win, well then Eva makes three for a yummy, yummy long time. What do you say?”

“No.”

“Too bad,” Eva replies, and shoots him.

It hurts of course; any projectile will, but the bullet is only brass, and passes through him, just under his rib cage and through his flank, ending up in the drywall. Adam hears Lilith cry out, but it’s dim, because he’s moving now at unearthly speed. He slaps the gun away and brings his other hand up, catching Eva’s hair, yanking her off of the sofa and over the coffee table.

She tries to swing the mug at him, but Adam turns, pulling her along, throwing her to the carpet as the good stuff goes sloshing through the air and spilling on the carpet. Eva struggles to get to her hands and knees, but Adam stomps on the middle of her back, pinning her down. 

“Give it up!” he roars at her.

Eva snarls, and writhes away from under his boot, rolling faster than the eye can see, bouncing back up onto her feet, her face a grimace. “Nope. I’ve had lots and _lots_ tonight, Adam. I can beat your sorry ass!”

He dives for her; they both go over the end table, bringing down the lamp there. Adam fights to grab her neck but Eva’s nails are talons, raking him mercilessly. He grimly struggles to pin her again, aware that this is now a fight to finish. It’s been coming for years and they’ve all known it even as they’ve avoided it.

Adam manages to catch one wrist; he twists it down, forcing Eva to flop over him. With a shove, he pushes her off, keeping her arm down on the carpet. Before he can twist it or break it, though, a strange ‘whoosh’ and a squelching sound break his concentration. Eva’s arm tenses.

She gives a weird wailing cry that breaks into different distressed tones, each one scraping his eardrums. Adam hangs on, risking a look up to see Lilith straddling Eva, her hands wrapped around a stick now jutting out of Eva’s back.

No, not a stick.

A broken length of wood.

With wires dangling from it.

Lilith grips the broken crossbar of the kinnor and shoves it harder into Eva, pushing her weight behind it. “Fuck! Just _die_ , you shiksa!”

He scrambles as the wood squelches, and just as Adam gets to his hands and feet, Eva . . . dissolves. The transforming flare races from the point of entry through her frame and extremities, shifting the bulk of her from pale flesh to grey powder within half a minute. With nothing firmer to hold it up, broken cross bar wobbles through the torn dress and dust to topple to the carpet.

For a moment neither of them move, but Adam is hyper-aware of Lilith’s erratic breathing, of her fingers flexing as she gags. He reaches for her, pulling her away from the dust that was Eva, dragging Lilith until she’s in his arms as they huddle together on the carpet.

“She, she, she . . .” Lilith stammers, “God, she _fooled_ me, and then the gun! She, the . . . oh! Adam! You’re shot!” Frantically she begins tugging on his sweater, adrenaline making her strong.

Adam works to soothe her. “Shhh, it’s all right, it’s all right. I’m hurt but it’s healing,” he points out, aware that while that’s true, it’s still going to take some time. Carefully Adam pulls his sweater up to reveal the wet hole along his left side. It’s already filling in, and Lilith is staring.

The sight is more disturbing to her than the fight. Adam flounders a little. “See, I’m going to be fine, truly, darling. Just a through and through. I’ll be right as rain in a few hours.”

“Adaaaam . . .” Lilith gives up and drops her face into her hands, sobbing.

 

It takes a while for Lilith to regain her equilibrium. Adam stays with her for the entire time, backing off when she flinches from him, holding her close when she reaches for him, letting her talk as the words bubble out of her in a fountain of uncapped tension and worry, flowing around them both and eventually slowing down.

Aftermath. He’s been through it before, but never before with someone he loves. Adam feels as if he’s stumbling, that his attempts to comfort her are clumsy and unhelpful.

From what he can piece together, Eva had watched Lilith leave his place, had figured out the blood courier connection at some point, and then had tricked Lilith into letting her in the house.

“She was . . . _awful_!” Lilith shakes at the memory. “Like an evil doll, so full of herself, so mean. She broke the vase in the front hall, and sat on the kinnor and broke it; threw it against the fireplace because it poked her. My father’s instrument . . .”

Adam mourns that as well, aware that the beautiful lyre is too far gone for repair by any craftsman. “Ah, but it _got_ its revenge,” he murmurs, making Lilith smile for a moment.

“True,” Lilith sighs, “Ain mol iz geven a chochmeh, I guess.”

Adam hugs her. “It saved us both; one couldn’t ask more of such a lovely thing.”

It’s the right thing to say, and Lilith sobs again, cradling against him for a while.

*** *** ***

Adam takes perverse pleasure in running the Roomba around the living room as upstairs, Lilith takes a long bath. He tidies everything as best he can, feeling little flashes of renewed rage as he does. The thought that Eva discovered Lilith and entered this sanctuary keeps him quietly furious. 

Too, there is the added weight in knowing he’ll have to tell Eve what’s happened, and Adam is not looking forward to that. His wife is serene and wise and wonderful, but she’s always had a bit of a blind spot in regards to her kin, and has covered for Eva more than either of them care to remember. This final heartbreak will hurt her, and Adam wishes he could put it off.

The faint glow of light through the curtains brings him out of his reverie and Adam realizes he’s waited too long; there is no way he’ll make it home before dawn. He goes upstairs to the bathroom, knocking before being admitted. Lilith is still in the tub, looking luscious and he’s instantly distracted for a moment before clearing his throat. “Sun’s coming up, heart of mine. Would it be possible for me to . . . sleep _under_ your bed?”

Lilith laughs so hard she knocks the whole bottle of bubble bath into the water.


	16. Chapter 16

Eve is upset, but philosophical too, and Adam is grateful for that. He suspects Eve knew Eva would come to a violent end at some point. The girl’s temperament was never suited for the long game, not even with repeated warnings. Like so many of the young, Eva lacked patience and took too many risks, both with the good stuff and the way she procured it.

“And the kinnor,” Eve tsks sadly. “I imagine Lilith’s heartbroken.”

“She’s hurting,” Adam admits quietly. There’s more to it, but he’s not certain how to tell Eve, so he sits still, knowing she’s perceptive enough to draw it out of him.

“Darling, what else?” Eve murmurs, her dark eyes compassionate now. “You’re a little too quiet.”

Adam purses his mouth. “She wants some time,” he reveals. “Alone.” A renewed sense of depression washes through him. “I haven’t been banished or anything, she just . . . doesn’t want to see me for a while.”

And this is what cuts so deeply. For the last two Fridays, Adam has collected his good stuff from an empty kitchen. The carpet in the living room has been replaced and the room is clean, but he can tell Lilith hasn’t spent any time in it, and Adam doesn’t dare check the rest of the house without permission.

It hurts more than he thought it would, and he’s trying not to let it get to him.

“She’s frightened,” Eve nods, “and angry. Oh Adam how hard this is on both of you. I know it’s not your strength, but you must be patient, my love. Have you written her a song yet?”

He looks up. “Not yet.”

Eve holds his gaze, her smile curling gently. “ _Now_ might be a very good time, then. Play under her window, woo her gently through this.”

Adam rubs his face with long, white hands. “You’re serious.”

“She’s in love with you, and terrified of losing you. She’s come face to face with the worst of what we are and needs something to restore her _trust_ , my heart’s ease . . . it’s quite a lot to deal with, so I’d suggest putting your feelings into your music as you so beautifully do, and play it for her.”

He cocks his head. “It’s a start, I suppose. I _miss_ her, Eve. She’s so . . . alive.”

Eve’s smile deepens, and her expression is luminous. “ _Preciously_ so. Go court your other wife while I deal with these very interesting papers she’s sent me. And remember Adam, that we both adore you.”

That’s a comfort he appreciates, and after ending the call he drags himself off the sofa to find some scored paper.

 

It takes him nearly three nights to finish, and even then Adam’s not completely satisfied with the song, but there are parts of it that are so clearly Lilith in tone and harmony, parts he knows come straight from the muse she is. He plays it on the violin, and then on the electric guitar, tries singing it aloud and in each rendition the soul of the song comes through. Adam pushes himself harder on this than any other recent music and he realizes it’s because for once it’s not about him at all.

He knows his _own_ depths; Lilith’s are new and mysterious and enchanting. They create tricky rhythms and chords as delicate as strands of a cobweb and Adam weaves the song a little differently each time, not because he wants to, but because he must. 

His fingers are sore by the time he carries his instruments to Lilith’s house. It’s Thursday, and Adam knows she’ll be home, but he waits until nearly midnight, when the lights downstairs are off, and only a single lamp in the bedroom glows through the window facing the back yard. Adam picks up the violin, salutes the window with his bow, and begins to play.

The song flows, and he lets it coil up in the night air, spreading the melody like a fine net of silver. When it ends, he sets down the violin and picks up his guitar, taking up the tune once more, putting sweet depth into each of the notes this time. Adam concentrates on his playing, determined to be as perfect as he can, his skill and familiarity with the song making it almost ethereal in the cool spring night.

He looks up as the last notes trail away, hoping to see her at the window, but nothing has changed; the light is still on, the sash is closed, the curtains drawn. Adam stares up, his sorrow beginning to well inside him when the soft sound of clapping catches his attention. Spinning, he sees Lilith standing under the clothesline, smiling at him, and the fact that she caught him completely unawares is slightly mortifying.

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve heard in years,” Lilith murmurs, taking a step forward.

Adam notes she’s in a nightgown and the outline of her nipples show through the thin material, re-emphasizing her femininity. He clears his throat but says nothing. If the music hasn’t said what he feels then words certainly won’t.

She glides closer, coming to stand in front of him and looks up into his face, reading his expression in the faint light. Slowly Lilith raises a hand and cups his cheek; her warmth feels so good that Adam sighs, leaning into her touch. They stand that way a while, and it’s Lilith who moves first, letting her fingers slide back to caress under his ear, to gradually cup the back of his neck and bring his face down to hers.

Lilith’s lips touch his, and she speaks against his mouth, her whisper muffled. “I am a murderess, Adam. I’ve broken my oath as a doctor and transgressed my faith. I’m going to have to make atonement for my own peace of mind.”

“No,” he protests pulling back to look at her again. “It isn’t murder to destroy a monster who wasn’t alive to begin with. And if it comes to that, you acted to defend yourself and save _me_.”

She hesitates, and Adam adds, “Eva played on your goodwill to enter, and then tormented you with full intent to kill you once the good stuff was gone, my love; we both _know_ that.”

“She still died by _my_ hand,” Lilith stubbornly counters, “and for my own peace of mind I need to . . . cleanse myself. Re-dedicate my oath as a healer, Adam-love.”

“How?” he asks softly, knowing that Lilith _is_ going to do this with or without his support. Her very stubbornness is the clay and mortar of who she is. He loves her.

“A pilgrimage,” comes Lilith’s answer. “I’ll take some of Eva’s dust to Eve and ask forgiveness, since she’s the closest to family there was.”

“A trip? To Tangier?” He wants to protest even as part of him understands the rightness of the gesture. Certainly Eve will be honored by it. “Are you . . . sure?”

“Yes. I’ve been making arrangements these past weeks . . . passport, time off from work . . . tickets.”

“I . . . see,” Adam murmurs, aching inside at the thought of her gone. “I’ll . . . I’ll miss you.”

“You dork, you’re coming _with_ me.”

Adam freezes for a moment, and then swiftly cups Lilith’s face, kissing her for all he’s worth. She splutters, laughs, kisses him back and sinks into his embrace with a sweet smile.

*** *** *** 

“What’s this . . . Banti’s Syndrome?” Adam looks at his new bracelet with a moue of distaste, not thrilled with the feel of nickel against his skin. Lilith speaks over her shoulder as she types rapidly on her laptop.

“A perfect excuse to carry a few pints of blood as necessary medical supplies on our flight,” she tells him. “As of now, you and Eve both have a rare version of splenic anemia and as your doctor I’m qualified not only to treat you both, but also to obtain units of blood as needed for your conditions. I’ve contacted all the hospitals and banks in Tangier with my credentials and so far we’ve got at least three who are extending privileges.”

Adam blinks. “You can do that?”

“Yes,” she grins. “Goes with being an MD specializing in hematology. I know it takes some of the thrill out of procuring your good stuff to have it delivered, but I think it’s going to be better for you both.”

Adam shoots her a dry look, sauntering over and leaning down close. “You’re spoiling me. I’m becoming your kept creature of the night.”

Lilith returns the look. “Shall I get you a collar to go with that bracelet?”

Adam feels his eyes glow red for a second. “Be careful what you offer, Doctor Schatten; you may get more than you can handle with that.”

She blushes; Adam watches the color highlight her cheeks, but Lilith doesn’t look away. They stare at each other a moment longer, and Adam slowly gives way, lowering his gaze with a little tilt of his head.

It’s a small gesture, the tiniest surrender but he can sense her pulse jump in reaction. It affects him too; it’s been a long time since he’s indulged in darker games. When in the mood, Eve is an elegant mistress, perfect in her commands and corrections, but her own preferences run to a more voyeuristic nature that incorporates her tactility. She strokes, and watches, and blends his pleasure with her own through touch most of the time.

Here and how, Lilith looks extremely warm. “Ohhh boy,” she murmurs and tries to laugh. “You’re teasing me and I have to tell you, I don’t . . . yeah, I don’t, actually, um, _know_ anything about that.”

“But you’d _like_ to,” Adam prompts, and after a moment she gives the tiniest nod, looking up at him and lifting her chin.

It’s sexy and encouraging; Adam feels a purr rising up from his chest. He gently takes her right hand and turns it, kissing each fingertip. “That _thrills_ me,” he tells her before releasing her hand and shifting away to let her recover.

To let himself recover as well, Adam acknowledges, trying to will away the sudden throb of interest between his thighs. It’s all very well to be a blood-sucking soulless fiend but difficult to carry it off the haughty persona while sporting a . . . personal stake.

Still . . . a trip to see Eve AND a chance to teach Lilith about erotic powerplay—  
Matters are definitely looking up.


	17. Chapter 17

Ian is a little puzzled but understanding about this change of plans. “A couple of months? Okay, that’s cool. Want me to keep an eye on things here?”

“Actually, I’ve engaged a security system with twenty-four hour monitoring,” Adam tells him. “They’ve got a few hidden cameras set up already, but I’m putting you down as one of the contacts. You can spread the rumor I’ve already prosecuted a trespasser or two—that would help.”

Ian grins crookedly. “Put out the word you don’t fuck around, huh? Yeah, that would be good.”

“Here,” Adam hands over a large wad of bills. “You’ve been excellent, Ian. Maybe you ought enjoy some time to yourself. Watch a cat video or two.”

This strikes the boy as incredibly funny and he laughs, tossing his shaggy hair back. “Maybe, man, maybe.” Unexpectedly he throws his arms around Adam and gives him a quick hug. Startled, Adam tenses, forcing himself to relax slightly in the spontaneous gesture.

Pulling back, Ian looks at him earnestly. “You’ve been waaay cool, Adam. I hope you have a great trip, man. And thanks. You got my number, so call if you need anything, okay?”

Adam nods, finding himself unexpectedly moved by the sincerity of Ian’s affection. This boy is a puppy, he thinks; a shaggy bright-eyed soul guilelessly enthusiastic about everything.

He also realizes he’s going to miss Ian, which is also surprising.

Both of their passports are up to date; something Adam is grateful for. The itinerary is a little complicated—Detroit to New York for a day’s layover, then a night flight to Lisbon, another layover and then to Tangier. Fortunately Lilith has enough patience to plan it all through. They’ll carry a permitted medical cooler along with the paperwork and she’s got enough good stuff packed in it for at least a week and a half, along with all the other medical gear to make it look legitimate.

“We’re at the Hampton at LaGuardia, and the Barcelona hotel in Lisbon," Lilith tells him. “Close to the airports. Should I get a hotel in Tangier too?”

“I’m sure Eve’s got plenty of room, although we may have to move some books around,” Adam tells her absently as he tries to decide which guitar to bring. “Always been a bit of a bibliophile, that woman.”

“Yes, but,” Lilith begins in an awkward tone, “Maybe you two may want some privacy? I mean, you’re married and it’s been years and . . . well . . .”

Adam pauses and looks over at Lilith, who is blushing in an adorable way, her head ducked down over the laptop. It dawns on him that she’s completely unsure of herself, of _this_ relationship as well as the new paradigm that will exist once they’re with Eve. Setting the guitar down, he comes over to her and takes her hand, pulling her away from the table and into his arms, his hands sliding over her round hips.

“You are a _part_ of us now,” he murmurs into her ear. “If I showed up without you, Eve would be _very_ upset. You know, that don’t you?”

Lilith nods against him, slightly reassured. “Well yes. I sort of get that.”

“I love her, and yes, I will want time with her,” Adam continues. “I am so grateful that you understand that, but at the _same_ time I don’t want you to feel . . . excluded. _Eve_ doesn’t want you to feel excluded. We are an . . . _us_ , now.”

Lilith looks up, shaking curls out of her eyes. “I just . . . I don’t want things to be weird or unhappy. I killed someone she loved, Adam—"

He places a hand lightly over her lips. “No. You killed someone Eve _tried_ to love. Someone who never deserved that love, who deliberately abused that love. And you did it defending me, which is _all_ the absolution you ever needed and more.”

She hugs him tightly for a moment, and then her next words come, soft and slightly urgent. “And I’m afraid of being jealous, Adam. Of losing you and I couldn’t take that because that’s what happened to me before.”

“Oh Lilith,” he sighs, smiling against the crown of her head. “I’m afraid of being jealous too. Once you meet Eve I fear _I’m_ the one who’s going to be left out of a lot of things. You already spend more time online with her as it is.”

This seems to mollify her a bit, and Lilith squares her shoulders, managing a rumpled grin. “I do, don’t I?”

“Yes you do, and the pair of you laugh a _lot,_ ” Adam pretends to grumble. “It would be fairly intimidating, if I wasn’t confident in the three of us.”

“I’m glad one of us is,” she tells him, and hugs him once more.

*** *** *** 

Normally travel puts Adam on edge; the uncertainties of nourishment combined with limited hours tend to dampen enthusiasm for the process. He and Eve habitually moved in small increments in the past—a few nights of travel at a time, passing through crowded cities or ports where it was easier to take sustenance without too much notice. The last major trip he remembers was crossing the United States from San Francisco to Detroit nearly twenty—no thirty—years ago. Eve had come with him as far as Chicago, and then ventured on to the Netherlands and eventually the north of Africa.

Staying together had always difficult simply because of the good stuff. Difficult enough to procure it for one; much harder to do it for two on any long-term basis. Even the zombies eventually noticed things like bites and missing people. He and Eve had left the trendy hills of Marin with its hot tubs and cocaine and eucalyptus groves, hoping for something more culturally meaningful. He’d chosen music of course, looking for inspiration among the roots of rhythm and blues there.

Adam had found sips of it, but certainly the last three years had been dry going. Dry enough to make him consider a wooden bullet.

Thankfully he hadn’t followed through on that, and then there had been Lilith. 

The flight out of Detroit is uneventful; the arrival in New York is noisy. Adam keeps his head low, hoodie pulled to hide as much of his face as possible. Lilith patiently surrenders her letters of authorization and requests a pat down for Adam since the scanners aren’t going to show any body heat for him. The light and noise put him on edge, the artificiality of it all. He holds the Starbuck’s cup, hoping he looks like every other slouching young adult on the concourse.

Lilith takes it from him, swigs a deep sip and sighs. “I’m turning into a night owl out of love for you, bubelah. I hope you appreciate that.”

“Yes, Mistressss,” he murmurs, just to see her blush. Adam has taken to calling her that at unexpected moments, teasing her lightly and enjoying himself doing it.

Lilith draws in a quick breath. “Oy, not so loud, you.”

“As she pleases,” he replies, letting her steer him out towards the taxi stand beyond the glass doors. Once the luggage and guitar are loaded up and they’re in the back, Lilith runs a hand along his thigh.

Adam gives a low purr, enjoying this game, glad of the distraction from the lights and car horns and exhaust fumes. The drive is a short one but before they reach the hotel he’s managed to catch Lilith’s hand and place it over the crotch of his jeans. She’s slightly mortified but doesn’t pull it away until they’re climbing out of the taxi.

The sixth floor room is a standard single with nothing particularly interesting except for the full-sized bed and Wi-Fi access. They stow their luggage and Adam draws the curtains on the unspectacular view. He turns to see Lilith watching him, hands on her hips. “You’ve got some chutzpah, don’t you?”

Adam doesn’t deny it; one corner of his mouth goes up, dimpling.

“In fact, you’ve got a little _too_ much,” Lilith tells him with a smirk of her own. “Maybe you need to be brought down a peg or two.”

“I can make a few suggestions,” he offers in a honeyed tone.

Lilith laughs. “I bet you can, but I’ve got one of my own. You are going to bathe me and then smooth me with lotion using those long, sexy hands of yours.”

He throbs at this; sensual images flashing in his head. “Mmm. As you wish.” Adam likes the tone of her voice; it’s not quite a command yet, but there’s an imperative quality that arouses him. He realizes it’s the same tone from when they first met, in fact.

“I _do_ wish,” Lilith sighs, and moves closer. “And you’ll do it now, please.”

The bath is hot; Lilith gives an obscenely sweet sigh as she lets him help her into the water. Adam savors the sight of her nudity; her pale curves and dark curls, her pretty feet and artistic hands. She settles into the water, stretching out while he sits on the edge of the tub, waiting for the next directive. It’s not quite a full headspace, not a scene per se, but it’s enough to make him hard and happy for the moment.

Bathing Lilith is a distracting, sensually slippery affair, and the little pat of soap is difficult to keep track of. Adam enjoys groping through the suds and under her luscious ass for it, murmuring apologies he doesn’t mean, and accepting her splashes and chides the entire time. The hotel towels are too rough and too small; he kneels and dries her off, pressing his cheek to the damp triangle of curls between her thighs, his cock throbbing during the entire procedure.

And then there’s the lotion. Lilith uses something scented with jasmine, a slick cream that glides over her damp skin as she lies face down on the bed. Kneeling around her knees, he runs hands down her spine, up and around the glorious mounds of her ass. Adam works his fingers against the muscles there, aware of how aroused she is. Each little moan and quiver send little electric jolts through his prick. Lilith shifts, widening her thighs, revealing the pink shell-like edges of her furry cleft to him. 

“ _In_ me,” she growls over her shoulder to him, tossing her curly hair back. “As slowly as you can go.”

It’s torture. He shifts to kneel between her legs, lifting her hips to work a pillow under them, letting his fingers tease the soft curls there before settling in a grip around the bones of her hips again. Angling himself carefully, Adam manages to breach her, and the heat of her body, the slickness make him curse with pleasure.

She laughs, and pushes back on him, forcing a long groan from Adam’s throat. Sloooowly, Lilith rocks forward, sliding off his turgid prick a few inches before shifting back again in deliberate short strokes.

More muttered curses from Adam, who is biting the insides of his cheeks against blowing his wad right here and now. “Lilith, my queen my mistress, heart’s love, I can _barely_ hold out!” he hoarsely whispers to her as she keeps up her slow rhythm, the tension and heat building.

“Mmm,” she replies, although her voice is strained too. “What would you like to _do_ to me then?”

Adam tells her, sparing no detail about how hard he wants to fuck her, how deep and how long, his fingers trembling against her hip bones as he works to restrain himself. This is good, he knows. This is powerful and insane, this little deliberate taunting of hers and it’s putting him closer to the edge than he’s been in years.

“Just . . .” she sighs, and he realizes Lilith has shifted one of her hands between her legs and is touching herself. “Yes, you _may,_ Adam.”

The knowledge that she is pleasuring herself, that she’s given him permission is damned near enough to get him off right there. Adam rocks into her forcefully, driving his aching prick into her, losing himself in a rush of pleasure so pure and strong that he cries out, the wave of raw desire surging in fulfillment with every spurt.

Later, he kisses the finger-shaped bruises on her hips as Lilith strokes his hair, smiling with satisfaction.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a longer chapter!

It’s a rainy night in Lisbon, with thunder and ozone in the air. Adam can smell how close the sea is, and the scent takes him back through the centuries in a single inhalation. He stands still for a moment in the night air outside the plane, memories washing over him and for once there is no bitterness in them. Adam wonders if it’s because he’s going to join Eve, or if it’s because Lilith is with him.

Probably both, he decides, hefting his guitar case over his shoulder.

Lilith is famished, so after Adam’s had his meal up in their room, she takes him with her down to the restaurant in the lobby of the hotel. The slim young waiter there dances around their table, flirting with Lilith in every glance and graceful move. Adam finds his hackles going up at this, particularly since Lilith doesn’t seem to notice she’s attracted the attention of the busboy and the wine sommelier as well. 

Adam can’t _believe_ she doesn’t see it; the obsequious smiles, the direct looks. He feels the prod of his fangs under his top lip instinctively reacting to these threats.

“Are you all right?” Lilith asks, looking up from her menu to study his face. 

“Give me your hand,” Adam tells her, adding in an undertone, “please.”

Confused Lilith does, and he takes it, marveling again at the vital warmth of her touch. With deliberation, Adam lifts it to his mouth and kisses it, letting his lips linger across her knuckles.

Her grip tightens in his. “In a romantic mood?”

“Just making something crystal clear,” he replies absently. When Adam turns his gaze from around the dining room, he sees Lilith staring back at him, her lips pursed.

She’s just figured out this is _not_ a gesture to woo her.

Adam tries to cover his blunder by kissing her again, but when Lilith tugs her hand, the tip of one fang grazes her knuckle and suddenly blood— _hotsweetwetdelicious!_ wells in his mouth. Greedily he sucks the taste in, and it’s only when Lilith tugs her hand free from his that Adam comes back to the moment.

She glares at him, wrapping her fingers in her napkin. Adam doesn’t risk opening his mouth for more reason than one at the moment.

Shame flushes through him, and Adam finds himself at a loss for the first time in years. He slinks down over the table in his humiliation as the waiter sails over, ready to assist la senhora bonita with her accidente. Lilith waves, making light of it all, and orders a martini that the dark-eyed boy scurries off to fetch.

When he’s gone, Lilith turns her gaze back to Adam. “What was _that_ all about?”

“I . . . fucked up,” Adam growls in admission. 

“You already _had_ your . . . meal,” Lilith points out. “What’s with the fangs?”

“Angry,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead, trying to regain a sense of dignity. The waiter comes back with the martini; Lilith takes a sip and gives the boy a perfunctory smile, turning back to Adam when they’re alone again.

“Angry,” she echoes. “Over what? Things are going pretty well right now, aren’t they? If you didn’t want to stay while I eat you can always go up to the room.”

She remains clueless, and Adam looks up dryly at her aware of how long Lilith’s eyelashes are in the candlelight, of how he can catch the hints of perfume along with the scent of her skin.

He scoots his chair closer. “Angry because you’re so beautiful. Angry because right now men around us are looking at you and wondering what it would be like to _bed_ you.”

Lilith blinks.

“Don’t hok my chainik,” she snorts, torn between scorn and amused disbelief. “What men? You’re crazy!”

“They’re here,” Adam sighs again, managing a twisted smile, “and I cannot blame them because you _are _enticing, my Lilith.”__

For a moment she looks as if she’s going to roll her eyes, but Lilith catches herself and gives a nod. “Enticing. Yes, okay, I just remembered what time of the month it almost is.” She leans over to Adam, gazing at him. “You’re hyped up because of my oncoming period, that’s what’s going on.”

Adam isn’t sure. Yes, he knows her cycle and can sense when it’s due, but it’s more than that this time. There is something richer about Lilith now, some elemental attraction that he knows is working a charm on the men around them. As if moving through these older countries brings forth the most basic nature of this woman next to him, helping her revert to her namesake. 

Lilith the temptress, the wild and untamed. 

It’s a theory worth contemplating, but not at the moment. Instead, Adam tucks the thought away and gives her an acquiescing shrug. “That could be it,” he offers. “I’m sorry for wounding you; that was never my intention.” 

“I know,” Lilith tells him, and takes another sip of her martini before adding, “it was a _crazy_ sensation to feel you drinking me though.” 

He arches an eyebrow. Adam knows how drinking affects zombies, particularly women. This part of the legends is true, although the glamour usually requires a more intense contact. He chalks up Lilith’s reaction to the fact that they’ve already been intimate, and that she’s in tune with his appetite. 

“It’s sometimes a variation of foreplay,” he purrs, glancing at her through his lashes, “love-bites.” 

“Hmmm,” is all she says, and then her entrée arrives amid attentive questions from the waiter. Adam drives the hapless youth away with a hard glare, and turns to catch Lilith’s disapproving look. >

“No,” she tells him firmly. “Knock it off. Just because you’re hopped up on my hormonal charge doesn’t give you the right to take a metaphorical piss on my leg, Adam.” 

It’s enough to make his jaw drop, and he chuckles before he can stop himself. Lilith smiles and goes to work on her bacalhau, savoring each bite. 

*** *** *** 

They walk together along the sea wall, listening to the pounding surf, moving from one circle of light on the old stones to another, passing under each streetlamp in their stroll. The rain has died down but the wind rolls the waves up, whipping their hair and brushing both Adam and Lilith with briny kisses. 

His arm feels good around her. Adam enjoys the weight of her head against his shoulder, the shift of Lilith’s body along his as they walk. It feels right to saunter together here where the land and sea meet. There are rhythms here calling to him, and Adam tucks them away for later, when he will compose with them. 

Perhaps a ballad—Noite Louca—set to the pulse of the tide. 

Adam stops and brings Lilith fully into his arms, resting against the edge of the sea wall, looking at her in the edge of a streetlight’s halo. “These are old haunts,” he tells her. “Places where I have walked before, mistress mine.” 

__Lilith looks at him. “They’re affecting you, aren’t they?”_ _

“Yes,” Adam agrees. “The states are young, even now. Their history has only started to be written. Where we’re standing has already seen more human civilization than the whole of Detroit ever will.” 

“And?” Lilith asks, ever practical. 

“Here, I’m . . . more who I truly am,” Adam tells her, “Eve is as well. These lands have harbored our kind for centuries. The cultures, the terrain, the superstitions and arts and timbre of this Mediterranean world bring back . . . instincts. You are of my family, Lilith. I know we haven’t done anything formal to establish that, but by coming here and standing with me on this continent I’m drawn to protect you, to cherish and guard you, to give succor to you in ways a bit stronger than I would elsewhere.” 

“It’s certainly making you a helluva _romantic,_ ” she admits. “Or maybe it’s just the bossing you around part.” 

“Maybe,” he offers, and says nothing more until they return to the hotel. 

They shower together. Adam is amused at how often he’s bathing these days, but the allure of a wet Lilith is hard to resist, and the added pleasure of curling around her in the bed is a small price to pay. They listen to the rain outside, the boom of thunder in the distance breaking far out over the water. 

“Now I can tell you,” he whispers, “if you want to hear how it happened.” 

“Yes,” Lilith responds. 

“I was born on a night like this,” Adam murmurs. “An easy birth. A happy childhood near the Dee with my brothers and sisters. Life was good until I turned twenty. My father died in an accident at our mill. He was attempting to reset the water wheel and was taken under by it, drowning him.” 

Lilith’s arms tighten around him but she doesn’t interrupt him. 

“That left my mother and eldest brother in charge of the mill, which was hard on them. My sisters married and my other brother Hugh found work under the master of the hounds for one of the local lords, Olwen. I joined Hugh, but because I had a good voice, I was given over to the two musicians instead, and learned how to play the fiddle, pibgorn and crwth. Those, I loved,” Adam admits, feeling a wave of sweet nostalgia at memories. “I learned a lot in those seven years, and became very good at both singing and playing. That meant I went with the lord when he traveled and when he entertained guests.” 

“So this was medieval times?” 

“Fourteenth century to you, I suppose. Anyway, one night Olwen hosted an entourage from the north, and I played for them all at dinner—background music. Most of them paid little attention, but one—the only man in the company who didn’t eat—kept his gaze on me. After the dinner I was called to play for him once more, in his chambers.” 

“Ah. Seduction?” Lilith asks gently. 

“Murder,” Adam corrects her. “He caught me by the throat with one powerful hand, tipped my head and drank me to the edge of death. I fought and struggled, but he was stronger and extremely hungry. When I lay across his lap, on the verge of losing consciousness forever, he raked open a gash on his cheek and pressed my mouth to it, urging me to drink, telling me I must take my own life back through a kiss if I wanted it so badly.” 

Lilith flinches, but Adam soothes her, rubbing a hand along her spine until she relaxes ever so slightly. He knows the story upsets her, but she needs to know it. He speaks again. “I drank. Not by deliberate choice, but because my entire face was crushed against his and I couldn’t breathe. The blood went down, and at first it burned, but as I swallowed again, it changed. The flavor went from the hot copper taste into something as sweet as mead, as heady as ergot-tainted beer. I went from nearly dying, drowning in the man’s blood to an addict, lapping it up as quickly as I could.” 

“Whoa,” Lilith murmurs, and he hears no judgment in her tone, only concern. 

“Grotesque. He shoved me away to the floor. I lay there, listening while he told me the few truths that would now rule my life: I would always need blood, I would never see the sun again, and the longer I survived, the more evil I would become. In hindsight I suppose I should be grateful that he told me the first two, and the last was more of a curse than a prediction, I think. I’m not evil, I’m . . . cantankerous, I suppose.” 

“Cranky,” Lilith agrees, but she tightens her hug again, and kisses the hollow of his collarbone. “Damn it. So you were sort of . . . _raped_ into vampirism.” 

“Violated,” Adam agrees. “I panicked and hid myself away. The company left before dawn and everyone thought I’d run away with them, but I hadn’t. I made my way back to the mill and . . . told my mother what had happened. She cried, gave me a little bag of gold, promised me she would pray for my soul, and told me to run. So I did.” 

“What happened to the man? Did you run into him again?” Lilith wants to know. 

“I did, but not until many years later. I asked him why he’d done what he’d done to me, and he said it was so that my music would live forever,” Adam replies. “It was a really _shitty_ answer, so I chained him to the east side of a gibbet and left him for the sunrise.” 

Lilith is silent for a moment, and Adam feels a moment of panic, worrying if she’s repulsed by his action. He turns his head to look at her, and she looks up at him, her gaze steady in the dim light. 

“Good for you. I hope his death fucking hurt.” 


	19. Chapter 19

The box is small enough to fit into two hands, and the polished wood gleams in the light. The customs agent eyes it, and Lilith tries to explain again. “They’re ashes, sealed in, that’s all.”

“A relative of mine,” Adam offers in a monotone. It’s a little lie, but after a moment more, the agent gives a nod and passes the box through the scanner without another glance. Lilith picks it up on the other side of the gate and waits for Adam to join her. He shoots a look at the container and shakes his head.

“Still making trouble for us even after her death. Typical.”

“Shhh,” Lilith tells him, and replaces the box into her handbag. They slowly make their way through Tangier Ibn Battouta Airport, mingling with the crowds past the baggage claim and pass out into the warm night air. 

The taxi drops them off at the foot of the hill, where there are few streetlights, and Adam takes the bags as he leads the way up, each step feeling lighter than the last. He’s so focused on reaching Eve that it takes the sound of Lilith’s protest for him to turn around and catch sight of the men calling to her from a doorway. Lilith is trying to ignore them.

Adam glides back, glares at the men who retreat quickly. Lilith gives a sigh as she moves closer to him. “Thanks.”

“I should have remembered,” he mutters in apology. “It’s not a safe city for anyone.”

“How much further?” she asks.

“Up here, and to the left,” Adam tells her, hefting the bags once more. 

They reach the arch a few minutes later, and he pushes the buzzer, feeling joy welling up inside him. So many years since last he saw his wife; so much time away and all the longing dissolves when the door opens.

Eve stands perfectly framed in the darkness, her hair pale and her eyes dark. She looks like a serene Madonna in reverse Adam thinks, and he gives a grateful sigh, his fangs extended. 

“Welcome now and forever, my loves,” Even coos to them both.

Adam sets down the bags and pulls Lilith in front of him, guiding her by her shoulders towards Eve. He’s determined to make sure she knows she belongs with them. Lilith gives a little squeak, but now Eve is coming down the few steps, her hands outstretched. She cups Lilith’s face and kisses each corner of her mouth, lingeringly, before pulling back. “At _last_. I cannot describe my _joy_ , Lilith Ayelet.”

“Eve,” Lilith murmurs, and Adam can feel her relax. Seeing the two of them hug makes him smile, and when Eve turns her attention to him, he meets her pleased gaze.

“Wife, love of my heart,” he murmurs, and slides his arms around Eve’s lithe frame. The scent of wood-smoke and lichen lies on her skin along with book leather and incense. He enfolds her in his arms, drinking in all that she is, all that she means in this moment.

They hold each other tightly, and part, reluctantly after a few minutes. Adam catches Eve’s thin hands and delicately kisses each one before stepping back.

“Love has done you good, husband,” Eve tells him in a voice rich with contentment. “Come inside.”

They trudge up the stone steps, moving past the books stacked against the wall, and as they enter the main room, Eve waves them in. “My garret, well-filled with volumes but I’ve shifted enough to make space all of us, I think. Lilith, the bathroom is through that little door. Adam, I have drink if you need it.”

She curls up on one side the big four poster, tucking her legs under her and cocking her head. Adam stretches out across the foot of the bed, flopping his lanky frame out, arms over his head. He knows he’s exposing his stomach when he does this but he doesn’t care. Hours of being cooped up in a plane cabin have left him feeling cramped.

“Well, didn’t take _you_ long to get comfortable,” Eve teases, moving to prod him with a bare foot. Lilith stands awkwardly on the other side of the bed until Adam pats the mattress, urging her onto it.

“Chanticleer wants his hens all in the nest with him,” he teases. “Birds of a feather are we.”

“Spoken like a true cock,” Eve accuses, one pale eyebrow going up. Lilith splutters into giggles and climbs onto the bed, settling herself in and giving a sigh of relaxation.

They chat lightly of small things for a while, savoring the comfort of being together in the candlelight, and when Lilith drops off to sleep, Adam and Eve rise to let her rest. They slip out into the cool darkness of the desert night, entwining around each other like affectionate cats in a graceful tango.

For the first time in ages, Adam feels the desire to give more, and does. More attention to Eve’s little ears; more kisses to her shoulders and chin and throat; more strokes and caresses and nibbles. She sighs in delight, her pale lashes fluttering. They amble along the twisting streets, caught up in each other like a tune and harmony drifting on the night wind.

When Eve finally demands consummation, it’s as she straddles his lap on the edge of a dry fountain in desolate courtyard with brilliant stars above them, and only a passing desert fox skulking by to hear their moans of delight.

*** *** ***

Within three days they find their comfort and ease with each other. Lilith spends long hours talking with Eve, taking notes and getting responses to questions Adam hasn’t been able to answer. He has three portfolios of music going now; transcribing with pen and ink even as he hums and strums and alters each tune. Adam composes quietly, content to keep an eye on the other two as they begin to mesh.

Lilith takes a taxi in the daytime, dressing in loose cotton pants and tops, her hair piled up, her sunglasses dark. She’s managed to get authorization for blood purchases for the duration of her visit, and introduce herself to the phlebology staff of the local hospital. When she comes home in the afternoon, she naps, snuggling into the bed, usually on his side, but once on Eve’s. 

By evening they all dine; Eve and he on glassfuls of the good stuff, and then they take Lilith out to the little kitchens and cafes along the streets, enjoying the nightlife while she has couscous or roasted lamb or whatever is offered. As the night rolls on, they make a trip to the mille nuit café to visit a distinguished gentleman there who is courtly and witty. Adam tries not to sulk when the man flirts with Lilith, but it’s difficult.

*** *** ***

On the fourth night, Lilith presents the box to Eve. She holds it out, murmuring. “I have intentionally sinned, I have sinned out of anger and hatred. I have done murder and I regret it. I am ashamed of my deed, and I shall never return to such a deed.”

Eve takes the box in her two hands, looking down at the polished wood with a melancholy expression. She raises her gaze to meet Lilith’s and speaks. “Walk from now on with a clean heart, my beloved. I forgive you and gratefully accept these ashes as my own burden.”

There are tears on both of their faces, and Adam is profoundly moved by the moment. All his resentment and hatred for Eva vanishes as Lilith and Eve embrace, and he feels his own chest lighten. He comes over to join their hug, and they stand woven together for a long time without speaking.

*** *** ***

The landlord begins to inquire about the household, and while he doesn’t complain, he does make it clear that he expects more income. Adam notices that the apartments on either side of Eve’s are empty, and that she’s the only tenant in the small building.

He makes his proposition later that night.

“It would be simple, really. A door here, an archway there and all three of them would be linked together,” he sketches out the rooms to demonstrate. “Instead of all of us cooped up here, we’d have a three times the space. Room for my music—“

“Ah, I _thought_ that might be the reason,” Eve smirks, but she cocks her head to look at the floor plan over the top of Lilith’s head, comb in hand. Apparently the fascination of those burgundy curls has snared another fan.

“How much would it cost?” Lilith wants to know as she sits cross-legged on the carpet, enjoying Eve’s hairdressing.

“Flat out, probably two hundred thousand dirham,” Adam mentally calculates. “About fifty thousand dollars. Maybe less.”

“Is that all?” Eve murmurs. “Gracious, I’ve got that in pin money.”

“Wait, wait, you’re just going to _buy_ the building?” Lilith splutters, twisting around to look up at Eve.

“Why not?” Eve replies, smiling. “It’s been lonesome on my own, and I think Adam needs a project.” Bending down to Lilith she adds in a whisper, “He looks _delicious_ when he’s stripped to the waist and elbows deep in wiring.”

They both laugh softly, and Adam pretends to be annoyed, but the idea of joining the three apartments is exciting, and he feels an eagerness to tackle it. Carefully he rolls up the paper and sets it aside, moving to circle around Eve and sit on the carpet facing Lilith. He plays with her bare toes. “It would mean making a commitment though,” Adam points out quietly. “We’d want to get started before the weather gets too hot.”

“That means a leave of absence from the hospital . . . or quitting,” Lilith sighs as he starts to rub her bare feet. “Which I’ve been thinking of doing anyway, but . . .”

“But _what,_ darling?” Eve asks quietly. “You know we love you and want you with us.”

“But I’m . . .” Lilith doesn’t finish the sentence as Eve’s fingers slip from her scalp to her shoulders, caressingly. Adam moves his own touch up along Lilith’s ankles and calves, rubbing quietly. It’s delightful and sensual and Adam finds himself painfully aroused when Eve finally lifts Lilith’s chin, turning her face up for a kiss.


	20. Chapter 20

The most difficult part of all this is keeping to himself. Adam understands that this moment, this interlude is between Lilith and Eve; that he has no right to make himself part of their moment.

If they want him, they’ll invite him in. He hopes.

But he also loves them both enough to share, and let them enjoy each other without him. It’s what matters in this circle of love—that each is linked to the others without limits or exclusions. He and Eve have been a duet for a long time, but now there is someone else to enjoy and cherish and gain inspiration from. Someone vital.

Lilith kisses Eve back, a little clumsily but with enthusiasm, giving a little squeak mid-kiss. Eve laughs softly, pulling back only to nuzzle a cheek against hers, murmuring, “Darling girl.”

“I . . .” Lilith gives a little shiver, eyes bright. “I . . . wow. I didn’t think . . .”

“Kissing and thinking are incompatible,” Eve tells her in amusement, scooting to curl around Lilith’s back and holding her close. “I did like that _very_ much; did you?”

“Yes,” Lilith tells her, and Adam hears the heat in her voice. It sends a flare of desire deep in his belly but he stays silent, still caressing her feet.

“Mmmm, good,” Eve replies, resting her chin lightly on Lilith’s shoulder. “I should like to kiss you again, but only if you want it as well.”

This makes Lilith laugh, a breathless little chuckle that Adam loves. It’s Lilith’s happy sound; the indication that she’s comfortable and pleased. As he watches, she turns her head and kisses Eve again, relaxing into the play of lips and eventually it’s Eve’s turn to purr in delight.

“Oh _my_ ,” Eve smiles, drawing back for breath long moments later, “You _are_ a playful kitten, aren’t you?”

“Ir zent sheyn,” Lilith responds, and turns to face Eve now. Adam lets her feet go and sits back, wondering if he should leave or simply stay put. She catches sight of him and blinks; he sees a flash of guilt cross her face. 

He smiles at Lilith. “I did _tell_ you Eve is amazing, wonderful, eternally desirable.”

Her face relaxes and she grins. “And you were _right,_ bubelah.”

“I think I shall go for a stroll,” Adam announces, striving to sound magnanimous and not quite succeeding. “I’m sure you two have . . . things to do.” 

This is met with a little hum from Lilith, and a smile from Eve, who shoots a look towards him full of grace and love. “Thank you for understanding, my love. I think we’re sure to return the favor shortly.”

Adam rises, but Lilith stretches forward to catch his hand and kiss his fingers.

He feels the warmth of her lips on them for a while after that as he wanders through the streets for a few hours, hyperaware of his surroundings. Part of it is an effort to avoid thinking of his loves and what they are doing at the moment, and part of it is precisely _because_ of his loves and what they are doing at the moment. Adam laughs at himself; at his libido and romantic nature, at how his masculine ego refuses to die even now.

He realizes he is happy. 

Adam’s wanderings take him through part of the night market, and on impulse he buys small silver toe rings for Lilith and Eve as well as a bottle of scented oil, a small potted caraway plant. He looks up at the stars, and softly names some of the constellations above in a language that hasn’t crossed his lips in centuries. Much later, he makes his way back, still aroused but content as well. Quietly Adam sets the plant down on the top step and enters the apartment.

Eve has left a few lamps burning, and as he peeks into the main room Adam draws a breath at the sight of Lilith’s lovely round ass peeking out of the nest of blankets. He suppresses a groan and moves silently around the edge of the room, wondering if another shot of the good stuff will quell his desires. On the bed, he sees that Lilith has her head resting on Eve’s pale bare stomach, and that Eve is smiling in her sleep, long fingers woven into those burgundy curls.

Sweet feminine musk drifts in the room, and the scent of it makes his fangs lengthen, along with something else, Adam acknowledges with a rub against his groin. Still, he turns away, determined to let them enjoy this night for themselves; Lilith and Eve are as much gifts to each other as they are to him.

Adam moves to the back porch of the apartment, pushing aside the heavy drape from the doorway and steps out. The back of the building faces a small cluster of date palms and beyond that, a dark vista of rooftops, although there is a view of the distant desert on the eastern horizon. The faint rim of light on the edge tells him it will be dawn within two hours.

He undoes his fly, freeing himself. Adam lightly caresses his prick, trying to keep his breathing light. He slickens his palms with a little of the oil, and gives a long, slow stroke, feeling the heat flare along his touch. It’s a solitary pleasure and at the moment a necessary relief if only for his sanity. Adam caresses the underside, all along the veiny ridges, and settles into a deliberate rhythm, tightening and loosening his grip to prolong the building sensuality.

Being in the open and cool air adds another layer of anticipation to his delight, and Adam eases his jeans down further, allowing himself better access. He cups his furry balls lightly, and closes his eyes, concentrating on the luscious images that have been haunting his thoughts for the last few hours . . . 

Only to feel the press of someone warm at his back. Hands come around, sliding down his arms, caressing his grip even as Adam caresses himself. “Need a hand?”

“Guhhh,” is all he can respond to Lilith as _another_ pair of hands curl around his hips, tugging his jeans down to his knees. Eve. Guiltily Adam slows, but Lilith slides her hands over his.

“Oh no, don’t stop,” she murmurs into his ear. “Don’t you _dare._ ”

Oh that tone. That _order._

Now there are four hands working his prick and two lightly toying with his balls. Adam widens his stance a bit, feeling reckless and hungry, adoring the play of heat and chill through him. Eve pinches his ass, making him yelp as she laughs, and Lilith twists her slick clever fingers around his aching shaft at the same time. He rocks forward, hips flexing helplessly with every touch. Adam can’t think, can’t focus on anything but the sweet tease of so many hands on him in the soft open air of the night. The edge looms before him in every sense of the word.

Firmer, faster, slicker, quicker, he begins to pant a little, and the sudden pain as Eve _smacks_ his ass undoes him completely. With a hoarse cry Adam feels himself jet thick ropy strings over the edge of the balcony as the glorious wave of pleasure sears through him like honeyed fire. Two, three sprays more, each thicker than the last, and Lilith’s fingers slide to gently wipe the blunt head of his cock, making him writhe in after-shudders.

He sways a little, overwhelmed. As his knees buckle a bit, Eve wraps an arm at his waist, and Lilith does the same on the other side of him, both of them looking unashamedly smug as they stare at him through their lashes.

“Fuuuuuck,” Adam manages, overwhelmed with delight and weakness as he drapes his arms over their shoulders.

“ _Total_ exhibitionist,” Eve murmurs fondly. “Always has been.”

*** *** ***

The bed smells lovely, and the warmth from Lilith feels good after all coolness of the night. Adam sheds his clothes and climbs in. Lilith insists Eve be in the middle, a position she’s touched to take, Adam knows. They snuggle close and Adam gives a pleased sigh and begins to creep under the covers.

“Adam, what on _earth?_ ” Eve asks, slightly alarmed. 

“Just . . . be patient,” he replies in a muffled voice. He slithers down towards the end of the bed, feeling for feet. Long, narrow, cool—Eve’s foot. He kisses it and fumbles for one of the rings, slipping it onto her second toe. His reward is a little sound of surprise, and her other foot stroking his back.

“So _that’s_ your game,” he hears his wife chuckle.

Adam moves further, reaching for Lilith’s feet. They’re warmer, and he manages to maneuver the other ring onto the third toe he finds. Above him, Lilith gives a giggle. “Ah, is that what I _think_ it is?”

He rises up, pulling the covers around his shoulders like a cape, and both Eve and Lilith glance at their feet, where the little silver rings glitter in the dim light.

They laugh and reach for him, pulling Adam back down on the bed and into their arms, settling once more amid occasional giggles and murmurs, dropping into sleep as the sun rises.


	21. Chapter 21

The few snags that hold back the apartment renovation take some time to overcome; Lilith fights the red tape necessary to buy the building as Eve deals with hiring workmen willing to work at night so that she and Adam can supervise the project. In that interlude all three of them spent time making plans . . . plans that include travel, investment and sweetly enough, pleasure.

“Travel, oh the freedom to travel!” Eve smiles. “Out of all the joys you’ve brought us, _this_ freedom is truly the greatest, my delight.”

“Travel with some restrictions,” Lilith amends, but Adam can see she looks pleased herself. “Still, it’s an improvement I’m sure, and with the two of you as guides, a lot more fun.”

“We can do the Greek islands,” Eve suggests.

“Lesbos?” Adam offers up without hesitation, making Lilith blush and Eve chuckle.

“Behave yourself my darling, or you may incur the necessity for us to correct you,” Eve tells him in an indulgent tone. “You’re getting very saucy these days.”

“Nights,” Adam can’t help himself now, and flashes one of his rare grins at them from where he’s lounging on the floor. “And I blame the present company.”

“I’m a good girl,” Lilith protests. “Mostly.”

“Mmmmm. Debatable,“ Adam murmurs, earning a blush from her.

Eve slips her arms around Lilith and hugs her. “That one’s _definitely_ on his way to smacked bottom town.”

Adam suppresses a little sigh of pleasure, and does his best not to show his delight, although it’s difficult. He pretends to be interested in something on the carpet. “You don’t frighten me,” he taunts them both, and they shoot him knowing looks.

“Oh we don’t intend to frighten you,” Lilith assures him. “It’s going far beyond that. You just lie there and think about what you’ve _done_ , you.”

“I regret nothing,” Adam shoots back, adding, “well, beyond that brief infatuation with zydeco in late Thirties that is.”

“As well you should,” Eve tells him with a delicate shudder. “I don’t think we’ll _ever_ be permitted back in the Big Easy.”

*** *** ***

It’s Kit who brings it up. Adam has taken to visiting him on Friday nights, leaving Eve and Lilith to indulge themselves in whatever takes their fancy—shopping, academic debate, astronomy, spa nights—and sharing the hours with the older man is a comfort.

Kit is good company, and despite a few differences of opinion, Adam likes talking with him. It’s clear that they share more than just affection for Eve between them, especially when Adam puts one of Kit’s ballads to music, playing it for him in the quiet lull at the café.

“Marvelous,” Kit tells him, clearly moved. “I can see why Mistress Eve keeps you around.”

“I earn my keep,” Adam responds lightly. “And if anyone tells you that one man can’t serve two mistresses, it’s a load of bosh.”

Kit grins merrily. “Nobody loves a braggart, young Adam. Take it from a man who found that out the painful way in 1593. By the by, which of you intends to keep the blush of Mistress Lilith abloom?”

Adam strums a few chords before answering. “Neither. The lady’s not for turning, apparently.”

“Ah,” Kit murmurs in a gentle tone. 

Adam looks up from the guitar, feeling a pang of regret. “She’s . . . considered it, of course. She knows all the advantages and disadvantages but . . . .”

“She’s afraid?”

“Worse, she’s _pragmatic,_ ” Adam replies. “She knows there are matters for us that require someone who can move about in the daylight, and because there are, Lilith won’t consider . . . the alternative.”

“Alternatives,” Kit corrects. “There _are_ more, you know.”

Adam glances at him. “Three: Alive, dead, and us.”

“No,” Kit shakes his shaggy head. “There is a via media as well, although the process is dangerous—more so than becoming as we are.”

Something stirs in Adam’s memory; a discussion centuries ago with a Balkan count. “The half-ones? I didn’t think they existed anymore, that anyone even knew how to . . . produce one.”

“It’s arcane knowledge,” Kit agrees slowly, “Risky too. But those who survive have the best of both worlds, or so the belief goes. Able to walk in the sun and pass as living, yet in the night as fast and strong as one of us on the good stuff.”

Adam considers this. “So why aren’t there any of them out there?”

Kit gives a sad smile. “Because there are so few of _us,_ dear boy. It takes only one of us to make another, but to make one of them requires _two._ ”

They say little more on the matter, but Adam ponders the option for the next several days, wondering if Eve has even thought of it. When Lilith heads off to the hospital, right before he and his wife bed down for the day, he asks.

Eve sighs. “Yes it occurred to me,” she confesses. “It was one of the _first_ considerations I had when you told me of Lilith. But darling, it’s so very _dangerous._ I’ve only participated in the process twice, and only one of those was successful. _Barely,_ I might add.”

Adam curls himself around Eve. “Tell me how it’s done.”

She’s silent for a moment, and he waits, cradling the long, pale form of her body, aware that the memories are troubling her. 

Finally Eve speaks. “It’s a bit like the usual process . . . drinking the good stuff and being drunk from, but it can’t be the same person. One of us would have to drink from Lilith, letting our genetic material seep into her, and then she would have to drink from another of us so that the two strains would weaken each other. A sort of horizontal genetic transfer, allowing Lilith’s human DNA to accept ours, integrating it into her own.”

“Rather like a vaccine,” Adam notes. “A weakened version of . . . us.”

“A bit,” Eve agrees, “although those of us making the attempt ages ago didn’t fully understand the process, and there were several complicating factors involving incompatible blood types. There’s where part of the danger lies, my love. Lilith isn’t able to type us: we have no good stuff of our _own_ until after we drink, and when we do, it’s possible it changes within us.”

“So you’re theorizing that even if I drink O negative, it may not _stay_ O negative once it’s in me,” Adam murmurs. 

“Precisely,” Eve nods. “We have our preferences, and it’s easy to apply Occam’s Razor to assume that our preferences were our types back when we were alive, but it’s not provable. Therein lies one of the huge risks, Adam.”

He sighs. “Damn.”

“Yes. And if it _doesn’t_ work . . .” she trails off and shudders; Adam instinctively tightens his arm around her.

“Shhhh---"

“If it _doesn’t_ work,” Eve persists, “Then Lilith will die, poisoned by the wrong blood type. Or something else—the turning has a hundred different possible problems which is why I rejected it almost as soon as I thought of it. I won’t put her into that sort of danger, Adam. I can’t. WE can’t.”

He’s silent a long time, feeling torn between the frustration and the fear and yet a deeper truth is there, a truth Adam has learned in dealing with Lilith.

“We can’t,” he murmurs, “but we can’t deny her the option either, my love. If I’ve come to understand anything about our mutual wife, it’s that she makes her _own_ choices. She should be allowed to make her choice on this _too,_ Eve.”

He feels her turn in his arms, her dark eyes locking on his. Adam swallows. “I know, I know—I don’t want to lose her either, but she’d be furious if she thought we were treating her as any _less_ than one of us.”

“She’s not less, she’s _alive,_ and fragile!” Eve blurts. “Oh Adam, the living are so susceptible to everything! It’s all I can do not to worry every time Lilith goes out!”

It’s clear from the anguish in Eve’s voice how much she’s come to love Lilith herself, and Adam pulls her close, comforting her. 

“I know, I know,” he sighs, “but I’m right about this; we must tell her that there is another option and let her choose.”

“Choice,” Eve mutters. “Mine was forced and yours taken away; between us we’ve got very little experience with _choice,_ my love.”

And because it’s true, Adam says nothing.

*** *** ***  
That night Lilith brings home a beautifully bound leather journal, the vellum pages creamy blank and presents it to Eve, smiling. 

“Today is your birthday,” she announces. 

Eve gives a little laugh. “Really? And how did you decide that, my angel?”

“The stars,” Lilith tells her proudly. “I remembered what you told me about what you saw in the night sky back when you were a child and checked the constellation positions against Barnard’s star for a rough date. I’m not going to reveal your age, but you said you were born in the spring, and today is as lovely as any to celebrate it.”

Adam watches as Eve takes the journal, her pale hands stroking the cover. “Lilith,” she sighs, and her smile flashes out. “You’ve made this ancient woman feel--”

“NOT ancient,” Lilith interrupts. “Timeless. You’ve got stories to tell, Eve, and I want you to share them; that’s what the journal’s for. Write your life, weave your magic there, all right?”

It’s in that moment Adam sees Eve struggle, sees her realize that the truth truly is the only right course of action here.

“Lilith,” Eve begins, shooting him a glance. “Adam and I have something to tell you. Something you need to know in regards to what we are and what you are. About the middle choice.”

Lilith looks from her to him, smiling crookedly. “You mean becoming Dhampir? Yes, I wondered if you two were ever going to bring that up, you luftmenches.”


	22. Chapter 22

For the next three months Adam fights the urge to sulk. It’s not easy; melancholy has always been his default mode, and he knows he can be difficult to get along with when he’s down. But he throws himself into the building renovations and his music to keep from letting himself brood about the fact that Lilith is now completely obsessed with her research.

Their little concubine keeps long daylight hours and returns home exhausted, with hardly any time for duets or conversation, let alone passion.

There’s always Eve to turn to, and that source of comfort helps, especially since he’s giving _her_ a shoulder to cling to as well. They keep each other close during the day, and circle around Lilith at night, making sure she eats, pulling her away from the computer and journals and lab work long enough to stay sane. 

To keep them ALL sane, in fact.

“Darling I appreciate this is fascinating and important to you—to us—but all your work will be for naught if you drive yourself into the ground in the process of researching it,” Eve chides Lilith lightly as she braids those burgundy tresses. “Moderation.”

“Spoken _just_ like someone who’s lived for centuries,” Lilith replies, but with a smile. “I’m sorry I’ve been so caught up, but there’s so much to check and document and test. I’ve got limited time at the lab and even then I have to lie about what I’m doing so the authorities don’t get suspicious. I’m just grateful I’ve gotten this far.”

“Yes but—“ Eve begins. Adam senses another little quarrel in the making and moves to stop it. He slouches over and begins to play with Eve’s hair.

“The three of us need to get married,” he announces. 

This is the proper and perfect distraction; Eve laughs and Lilith joins her. “Wow, that’s a romantic way to propose.”

Adam sighs dramatically, swings himself around to face them and gracefully drops to his knees, holding out his hands in supplication. “Eve, blood of my soul; Lilith, guardian of my heart, the pair of you consume me! I beg you both-- take me as your husband,” he intones, putting all the intimate sweetness he can into his request. 

This is greeted with more giggling, but he doesn’t take it personally since he grins himself. Lilith is blushing as Eve ties off the braid with a section of ribbon. “Better,” she murmurs and he’s not sure if she’s talking about the hair or his proposal.

“Unless we’re going before an Imam, I don’t think the three of us can do this,” Lilith points out. “Certainly no Rabbi or priest will hitch us.”

“ _I_ can marry us,” Eve admits. “By my right as a Daughter of the North River and Sister to the Seven Oaks, granted to me by Drust Ninian by holly and hawthorn.”

Lilith looks a little awed by this and Adam smiles; it’s a prodigious title indeed. 

He rises and nods. “Of course. Handfasting?”

“Yes,” Eve nods. “And dancing and sacrifices—symbolic only—and then a feast.”

“And paperwork,” Adam muses. “We can file it with the embassy.”  
Lilith laughs at this. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Eve assures her. “There _is_ a form for processing a Druidic Union. I’ve made sure to register myself with the official association in the UK so even if our wedding isn’t recognized _every_ where, there is enough precedent that others _will_ acknowledge it.” 

“Whaaaa?” the stunned look on Lilith’s face is enough to make Adam smirk. 

“I’m not sure that’s a ‘yes’ but I’m taking it as one,” he replies. “And you, my lovely Eve?”

“Oh of course,” she demurely smiles his way before slipping an arm around Lilith’s shoulders. “We’re a set; you can’t break us up you know.”

“So it’s settled, we’re all betrothed,” he agrees. “Affianced, promised, pledged . . . I think we should start rehearsing our honeymoon.”

“ _Not_ so fast, Mister Moss-Morgans,” Eve chides him. “It may be our fourth time but it’s Lilith’s first, and we need to make it special.”  
“And it _shall_ be,” Adam promises, not liking the gleam in Eve’s eyes.

“Yes, it shall. Therefore we’re going to wait to consummate our marriage until after the ceremony.”

“I protest!”

“Overruled,” Eve decides, pressing a quick kiss under Lilith’s ear. “Right?”

“Married?” Lilith splutters. “You two are serious? As in actually plighting our troth?”

“Lilith darling you’re usually quicker than this. Yes, _we_ —Eve and I—want to marry _you_. That is all right, isn’t it?”

She bursts into tears, blubbing in a way that both alarms and arouses Adam who comes to wrap his arms around her, Eve doing the same.

“Yes,” comes her wet affirmation. “Yes!”

*** *** *** 

Three weeks later they hold the ceremony by the light of the full moon, standing together on the rocky beach at Plage Achekar. Kit is there, leaning on a skull-topped cane, watched over by his young attendant. The beach is empty at this time of night; a few stray dogs wander by but most of the tourists are in the city, or at the Caves of Hercules several miles south of them. Here and now, a ruffling breeze brings the small waves into the long flat shoreline.

Their witnesses are the stars, full and bright. Adam has taken the time to find a long-sleeved black dashiki, embroidered in silver and red around the neck and cuffs. He’s tied his hair back and has his sunglasses propped up on top of his head.

Eve is in a white and gold takchita; Lilith a rich purple and grey one. They both have their hair down and little gusts send ripples through their locks. Each of them holds a wide ribbon in her hands. When Adam steps forward, he feels a rush of love; a warm magic tingle right down his spine. It’s been so long since he’s had such a human sensation and it humbles Adam. It makes him smile.

Eve speaks in a musical lilt, using a language that hasn’t been heard aloud in a millennium, and although Adam doesn’t understand her words, the meaning comes through in her expressions, gestures and tone. She holds out her slim pale right hand and he presses his own over hers as Lilith rests hers on his. Carefully, Eve and Lilith weave their ribbons around the stack of hands, passing the satin around fingers and wrists. All the time Eve sings her song, her head back, her dark eyes shining.

When the last of the ribbons are wound, Adam feels Lilith’s warmth seeping through his hand to reach Eve’s. They raise their binding up, and Eve gives a final declaration, then turns to kiss Lilith before shifting to kiss him. He does the same, returning the kisses without hesitation, joy, pleasure, and contentment flooding every sense he has. 

Adam moves in closer, prepared to take things a bit further, tongue-wise, but Eve stops him with a merry glance, moving to the right, pulling her bound loves with her as they walk in a circle a few steps. She stops, turns them the other way and after that it’s done.

They are Joined.

Kit has a bottle of champagne for Lilith, and there are flasks of the good stuff for him and the others. His companion opens a wicker cage, releasing three doves into the night sky, and Adam watches them fly off in a protective cluster back towards Tangier, swift and free.

After that they lounge on a heavy blanket in the sand, chattering and celebrating with a few photos. Adam gives Lilith a bone ring in ashy grey, the little skull in it the same size as the ones he and Eve wear. Lilith tears up and slips the band onto her thumb.

 

Later that night, Eve and Lilith re-bind Adam with their hand-fast ribbons, tying intricate bows as they secure his wrists to the posts of the canopy bed.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly done, I promise!

Marriage has made Lilith nearly insatiable, Adam muses. Fortunately this is a delightful development, and he considers himself blessed to be able to keep up with her (and _‘up’_ certainly is the crucial preposition, yes) through the next few months. It makes life interesting to understand that at any given moment of the night he may be pounced on or pulled to the nearest piece of furniture all the better to meet the immediate whims of his newest wife.

A lesser man might have worried or lacked stamina, but thanks to the constant supply of truly _good_ good stuff Adam is more than pleased to take Lilith or be taken by her nearly nightly. Certainly it does his ego good, and the fact that their couplings both please and entice Eve helps as well, with their duets often becoming trios more than not.

“That . . . was . . . _magnificent!_ ” Lilith puffs as she sprawls, glowing and pink against the far wall of the newly created library in their compound. Adam himself is slumped against the desk, a little breathless as well but vastly amused at the flurry of papers scattered across the room. Two or three pages are stuck on Lilith’s thighs and hip; testament to their sticky passion.

“Mmmmmmm,” Adam agrees in a throaty purr as he reaches over to straighten the medical diploma on the wall. “It’s a damned good thing we don’t have neighbors anymore, though; we might have knocked a hole straight through.”

Lilith laughs, shaking her curls as she sits up and pulls her shirt back down over her chest. “Speaking of which, I’m going to ache today, that’s for sure. Worth it, though. SO worth it.” She rolls to her feet, fishing for her slacks. Adam sees his discarded robe but makes no move to retrieve it just yet. Instead he hums appreciatively at Lilith’s ass as she re-dresses, her back to him.

“I _heard_ that.”

“You were meant to,” he tells her, gliding forward to wrap himself along her back, pulling her against him to savor her warmth. Easy affection and joy. Adam catches the faint scent of blood just under her sweet musk; knows Lilith is due to start her period within a day or two. He strokes his fangs along her shoulder ever so lightly, enjoying the way she shudders.

“I have to go,” Lilith sighs. “Hate to, but _have_ to. I’ve got test results to check, and—"

They hear Eve cry out in the next room. Adam moves first, but Lilith is right at his shoulder as they hurry to reach her. Eve has her phone to her ear, her expression grim as she waves them to wait. Rapid French, and then she mutters a goodbye in Arabic before looking up to them. “It’s Kit,” she blurts out. “It’s bad, my darlings.”

*** *** ***

And it is.

Despite offers from Lilith, Kit has kept on obtaining his own supply from the French doctor with Médecins Sans Frontières, and his latest batch was contaminated. Lilith re-confirms the virulent hepatitis diagnosis within hours. “The Dane particles are taking apart his liver,” she tells them, “The virus is settled in there pretty heavily, and even though his system is fighting it and keeping his circulatory fluids clean, his organs are failing. It’s . . . obscenely fast,” Lilith finishes, a little stunned. 

Eve is pale and stricken, clutching Kit’s hand as she kneels at his bedside. On the other side, his companion Bilal is weeping silently in the crook of his own elbow. Adam feels his throat tighten as Lilith sets the tablet down and comes over to Kit. He watches her check him over, and when Kit opens his eyes they’re amber, like a housecat’s.

“Mistress, I fear it’s time,” he rumbles softly, one corner of his mouth going up. “This jest _is_ finite, I fear.”

How it hurts to see Lilith nod. Adam compresses his lips and moves closer to Eve, laying hands on her thin shoulders.  
“I’m afraid so, dear friend,” Lilith tells him. “If you like, I can give you something to . . . make it easier.”

Kit feebly shakes his head. “No time,” he replies, his voice weaker. “Kind as that is. My last wishes are written; my beloved boy knows what I want done.” He looks to Eve, squeezing her fingers gently, and Adam looks away, not wishing to pry in this intimate moment.

“Sweet Eve,” comes the murmur. “You’ve always been there. Live on,” Kit urges her. “I give you permission to throw hints like rose petals.”

Adam feels Eve sob a little chuckle. “Oh Kit,” she replies, and brings his hand to her lips to kiss his fingers. “What good is the joke if you’re not there to laugh?”

“My _dear,_ ” he reproaches her with a faint grin. “Is this not the very definition of the last laugh?”

For a moment the mood in the room lightens, and then Kit draws a shaky breath. “Adam, take care of them and yourself, lad. If time teaches us the lasting value of any quality, ‘tis love.”

A last rattling breath, and he’s gone. Lilith pulls Bilal into a hug while Adam does the same for Eve. For a long time, none of them can speak, and the soft sounds of weeping fill the room in a muted chorus of shared grief.

** * *** *** 

Kit’s remains go to Lilith; it’s in his will, which he’d updated days before passing. He states his support for her research and leaves the disposal of it up to her. Adam helps her pack the body and take it to one of the large freezers of the hospital morgue, placing it reverently on one of the gurneys nearest the back. Lilith is pre-occupied, he sees, making plans. 

“I have a limited amount of time,” she tells Adam. “I’ve got to draw fluids and tissues, arrange for cremation . . . and I have to bribe the right people with the right amount to make it happen. Bilal will help me, but even so I’m going to be insanely busy. Please stay with Eve; comfort her while I do this.”

He does what he can, which is mostly listening to her, and taking Eve on long walks through the city. They find new little shops and dark gardens while Eve talks of what she’s writing in her journal. Adam plays for her too; new music that blends a little of Motown with the Mediterranean. They hold each other for hours, and solemnly toast Kit with shots of the good stuff. It’s a slow process but as they move through the heat of summer and the weather begins to turn cool again, things are better.

On a brisk October night the three of them take Kit’s ashes to Bilal, who accepts them sorrowfully. He tells Adam he is thinking of leaving Tangiers and going to Casablanca. “There are too many memories here that pain my heart,” he tells them. After that, the café is sold, but Adam manages to salvage the sign, which now hangs on the wall of their living room.

Adam considers selling the house in Detroit and brings the topic up one rainy evening. He’s restless, as is Eve, and Lilith is in need of a break, so he suggests they go back and pack up all the instruments and inventions here. They discuss it, weighing pros and cons. In the end it’s simply easier to give it up, and Adam signs it all over to Ian, who is thrilled. His misspelled texts and emails are sweet, though, and Adam is content to let go of some of his own past. He sends off three full demo recordings to a little studio in Spain and they sign him on for limited release.

Then Lilith tells them she’s ready.

*** *** *** 

“You’re both type O,” she tells them. “Both of you drink O because it’s the most common, but I’ve managed to pinpoint your types from all those samples you’ve given me, and I’m ninety-nine and nine tenths sure of my results. I’m an O myself.”

“So all of us are . . . compatible?” Eve asks.

“Yes,” Lilith nods. “So as I see it, You could drink from me, and then I would drink from Adam. Or from Kit, who was also O.”

“Kit’s . . . .”

“Yes, but I have a few samples of his fluid, carefully frozen. It’s also O, and it’s clean. I’m saving it just in case our attempt doesn’t work out.”

“Hell of a risk,” Adam mutters, feeling his stomach churn a bit. He means all of it, not just Kit’s possible contribution. 

Eve draws in a breath. “Darling,” she reaches for Lilith, pulling her into her long arms. “Are you absolutely sure? I’m _not_ talking about percentages or risks or logistics here.”

Lilith gives a quick nod. “Yes. I want it _all_ , bubelah—I want to be with you two always. Call me selfish, but this has been the best year of my life—I’ve found purpose and love and family with you both and I want that for the rest of our lives. For that . . . yes, I’ll take the risk.”

“Love,” Adam cups one of her cheeks, leans over Eve’s shoulder to kiss Lilith, “I won’t lie; I’m scared shitless. But if you’re _sure_ . . . .”

She smiles at him, that sweet cocky look that first won him over. This is Lilith: strong, feisty, eternal. “Oh yes. _Yes_.”

Watching Eve drink Lilith is painfully erotic. The two of them entwined on the bed, alabaster skin on rose, hands entwining, slow soft suckling . . . Adam groans a bit, feeling achy with desire. His fangs extend, and he runs his tongue over them as he sits on the edge of the bed, waiting.

_(Not the throat darlings, not there. That’s for a kill, not a change, Eve had told them.)_

The gleaming trickle of red along the crook of Lilith’s elbow glitters in the candlelight as Eve reluctantly pulls back, brushing her hair out of her eyes. She’s flushed a bit, dark eyes like polished jet tinged with red. Carefully Eve presses a folded bit of gauze against the little holes and tapes it into place, her movement slow. She looks at Adam, smiling, and helps Lilith sit up.

Adam leans forward, offering his neck. He knows he could offer his arm, but this is more . . . submissive. A gesture of respect and desire to the woman who has earned it. A way to let her experience what it IS to be . . . one of them. He fights a tremble as Lilith reaches for him, licking her lips.

“L’chai’im,” she chuckles and presses her lips on the tender joint of his throat and shoulder. For a moment Adam feels the heat of her mouth, and them the sweet sharp sting of her bite.

He doesn’t hide his pleasure, fists gripping the coverlet convulsively as Lilith drinks. Each quick suckle sends a chill through him to pool low in his belly, making him throb. When she pulls away, he protests, a deep rumble rising up. She catches his chin and lifts his face, and Adam sees his own good stuff glittering on her lips and chin.

Lilith kisses him.


	24. Chapter 24

For a week, Lilith wavers between conscious and comatose, and it would be funny at any other time if matters weren’t so serious. Eve finds no humor in it, but Adam is amused at how his second wife will be chattering away one moment, and slumping over the next, dead to the world for an hour or more. She recovers easily each time, making it a point to document it all. “It’s primarily about the shift in my metabolism,” Lilith mutters, “as long as I’m not driving, I should be fine. I hope.”

She doesn’t drive. Adam watches over her while Eve reads up on what little they have on dhampirs. It’s not much.  
“Oh! After all this time, I shall _have_ to learn to cook,” comes the grumble. “Or at the very least prepare steak tartare!” 

“You’re up to the challenge,” Adam assures her. “If a zombie can do it, you can do it far better.”

She shoots him a slightly irritated look, but her mouth quirks up at the corners. _“Cook-ing_ , Adam—I haven’t stirred a pot since before the Romans invaded my woods!”

“Then you’ll certainly have no preconceived notions,” he tells her cheekily. “I hear they enhance flavors now with something called salt.”

Eve calls him vile names under her breath, but scrolls through her kindle, looking up recipes with the dedication of a first year student at Le Cordon Bleu. Adam finds handwritten notes about basashi and gored-gored later, among his score sheets. He tucks them away for later and watches Lilith wake for the fifty-second time, stretching like a plump and contented cat. 

Her hazel eyes have a hint of garnet to them now, a fractional gleam that Adam feels adds to her glamour. Her complexion—normally brown from the Moroccan sun—has paled a little.

“How long this time?”

“Ten minutes, maybe less,” he tells her, coming to stretch out alongside her on the sofa. “I didn’t even get to the first button on your blouse.”

“You _wouldn’t—_ ” Lilith accuses, but she’s grinning.

“Pffft! You know perfectly well I _would_ ,” Adam points out. “I love a challenge.”

“You love doing evil things and being _caught,_ ” Lilith tells him indulgently. “All the _better_ if you get caught.”

This is so blatantly true that Adam doesn’t even argue the point. Instead, he moves closer and smiles. “Open your mouth.”

Lilith does, and he slips a finger in, running the pad of it over her canines. “Sharper.”

“Yeah?” she rises to check her reflection in a mirror, grimacing at herself in a way that makes Adam grin. Eve, who enters just then, chuckles.

“Mirror mirror?” she murmurs, coming closer to look over Eve’s shoulder. “Oh my, definitely a bit . . . feral.”

“All the better to _eat_ you with,” Lilith murmurs salaciously, and turns to plant a kiss on Eve’s cheek.

“Ah!” Eve replies, “Somehow that’s not _quite_ a threat, darling.”

“Nope,” Lilith agrees, “but it’s interesting.” Thoughtfully she runs a tongue over her teeth.

*** *** *** 

So much happens in the next few years. As Adam watches, Lilith deals with meat on the under and un-cooked side, tests herself in daylight and records the changes faithfully, like the dedicated scientist she is. He’s glad she keeps her curves, but there is something sweetly dangerous to her now; a glint in her eyes, a flash of tooth that marks her as Other.

Eve is published. Her first notebook of poetry goes to a little publisher in Norway and is released to superlative reviews that praise her lyrically haunting style and beautiful wordplay. His wife is amused at the fuss, but pleased too, and follows up with a slim, serious volume about the coming of age of a Druid. This too is met with critical acclaim from critics and historians, both of whom claim her as their darling. The media-savvy publicist they hire guards Eve’s identity ferociously even as his wife finalizes her latest ambitious work: an intimate biography of Christopher Marlowe, replete with notes, anecdotes and insights that do nothing to clear up matters relating to Shakespearean authorship.

Adam is so proud of her.

His own music goes well too. The little studio in Spain continues to release his work under the assumed name he’s taken, and when Adam visits in person, they agree to his stipulations without a second thought. As a result he arranges several sessions with local musicians that turn into wonderful jam sessions. There are new rhythms to play with; electric versions of old instruments and strange twisted covers of songs no-one’s heard in decades. Adam knows he’ll never make the top of the charts, but his underground fandom is a dedicated one, and they appreciate everything he releases.

There are hard moments and missteps too, but he’s aware now of how fleeting they are against the long wall of time. He and Eve have cast their shadows along that endless mural, never leaving much of a trace before Lilith came into their lives. 

She makes them stop and look at the details, Adam thinks. Lilith forces them to note the good and the bad, to run a finger on the colors of a lifetime. Sometimes even draw that finger back and taste the peaches and the peppers of humanity, speckled and spattered on that wall of time.  
Lilith won’t live forever, Adam knows. He, she, and Eve are aware of that, but the gift of a life extended five times longer than before is something they all accept. It’s time enough to live and enjoy the living.

And Adam knows it’s more than time enough to love as well.

end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it; I know much more happens to them, but the ride has been sweet and I'd rather end on a good note. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing--I appreciate it so much!


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